


metanoia

by ladyxdaydream



Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: Akihiko's pov, Almost Canon But Not Quite AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining, Sex Work, Unhealthy Relationships, and then goes from there, chronicles the break up with ugetsu and the path to haruki, mental health, the dubcon tag is for That One Scene between akihiko/haruki and nothing else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxdaydream/pseuds/ladyxdaydream
Summary: Akihiko Kaji had sworn off love.Love was nothing more than a shiny lure; bait on the end of a hook. Swallow it, and you were reeled in, gutted, and devoured.He should have known better.
Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Murata Ugetsu, Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki
Comments: 15
Kudos: 58





	1. Addicted To A Lonely Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> What I set out to do with this fic was essentially write a Given companion piece from Akihiko’s POV. An “almost-canon-but-not-quite” AU (stole this phrase from a YOI fic :x), where I give *my* interpretations of Kizu’s writing, and embellish it to *my* liking and understanding....plus a bunch of extra scenes that I completely made up, of course. ;D oh, and some things I just outright changed because it’s my fic and I can do what I want lmao.
> 
> This fic surpasses the anime/film (probably? **edit:** i wrote this note/the vast majority of this fic before the movie came out and I’m pleasantly surprised and impressed that my hc’s about ugetsu and ugetsu/akihko were right--ha ha! *smug*), **so if you’re reading this, it’s under the assumption that you’ve read the manga or at least seen the film... otherwise it *will* contain spoilers.** You’ve been warned! 
> 
> The first half of this chapter re-hashes a lot of familiar scenes, but from a different POV aka Akihiko's! I hope you still find it enjoyable!
> 
> **metanoia** ~ the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, and/or way of life. 
> 
> .  
> .  
> .

Akihiko Kaji had sworn off love.

Love was nothing more than a shiny lure; bait on the end of a hook. Swallow it, and you were reeled in, gutted, and devoured.

He should have known better.

He should have known the moment he snapped the case shut on his violin with a sense of finality—the first of many parts of himself he’d lock away for a chance with Ugetsu Murata. But maybe chance was the wrong word here. Chance implied that something happened by accident, or without obvious design.

_Fortuitous._

Akihiko didn’t think anything about his life was fortunate, and Murata definitely had a hand in it’s creation. He was a master of strings after all—he knew how to glide a bow across a hollow body and make it sing. Akihiko wished he could resent him for it, he really did, but he willingly let himself be played. He knew he could never compete with Ugetsu’s talent on stage, so being touched by the _untouchable_... felt like being touched by God.

Nobody told him that worship made for such a weak foundation. The thing about Gods was no matter how hard you prayed, sometimes they just didn't hear you, and there were always others ready to fall at their feet when you failed.

So how did Akihiko find himself still living in a humid, desolate basement, sharing a bed with the man he once considered his boyfriend?

If you asked him, he probably wouldn’t tell you. He might blame it on codependency; addiction. It certainly felt like that on the nights Ugetsu would reach for him, stroke him until he was hard, and then climb into his lap to chase a high they both knew would burn out quickly. It was always fast and rushed as a consequence—not allowing any time for thought or regret—the comedown brutal and uncomfortable. Akihiko would spend the rest of those rare nights chain smoking on the front steps, waiting for the sun to rise so he could make coffee without feeling guilty about the hour.

He’d make an extra cup for Ugetsu—whether he drank it or not—and that was the _real_ reason he still lived here. He still loved him. And for a genius, Ugetsu was pretty shitty at looking after himself. Akihiko was worried what would happen to him if he left…

... and he was also incredibly, horribly broke, with nowhere else to go.

So, yeah.

Akihiko Kaji had sworn off love, which is why he was _fucking pissed_ when he met Haruki Nakayama.

* * *

_“Akiii,”_ Haruki whined from where the two of them sat on the pavement, pushing his lower lip into a pout as Akihiko stole his packet of Seven Stars. “That’s my last cigarette.”

Akihiko ignored his protest and lit it up, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth when he spoke. “We can share it. I’ll buy you a new pack once practice is over.”

He pulled another drag, and instead of handing it over, he held it in front of Haruki’s mouth. Haruki blinked at it for a moment, before he leaned forward and hit it, his lips pressing against Ahikiho’s fingers as he did.

“But you always buy the cheap ones,” Haruki stated on his exhale.

Akihiko laughed, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. “Why do you think I like smoking yours better?”

Haruki scoffed, but it lacked any real malice.

He handed off the cigarette then. While Haruki had indulged him the first time, he wouldn’t get away with it twice. Haruki tolerated his flirting, but he had his limits, and Akihiko respected them… mostly. He tried to keep it in check, but it wasn’t exactly easy. He could never go too long without touching him, and he was an expert at finding excuses to do it—he was creative like that.

“You’re buying me the good ones,” Haruki said pointedly, handing it off again.

Akihiko smiled fondly around the cigarette, his eyes following the cars passing on the street in front of them. “I know.”

And he would. Even if it meant swiping a just-expired-bento from the convenience store he worked at for dinner tomorrow instead of ordering cheap take-out like he’d planned. If Haruki wanted something Akihiko would make it happen, like the bottle of tea he’d asked for today, which he was currently taking a sip from.

“Sato seems interesting,” Akihiko mused, as they continued to pass the cigarette back and forth between them. “He’s certainly _affecting_ our Ue-kun.”

Haruki laughed. “So you’ve noticed, too?”

“How could I not? It’s written all over his face. And the way he played yesterday…” Akihiko trailed off. “He was definitely trying to impress him. I haven’t seen him like that in a while.”

“I haven’t seen _us_ like that in a while either,” Haruki teased, bumping his shoulder into his. “It was fun; felt like the early days.”

Ah, the early days. While it had been fun, Akihiko joined the band at a weird and complicated time in his life, when things with Ugetsu first started going to shit. He almost didn’t join for that reason, but if he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure where he’d be right now. He was forever grateful to Haruki for bringing the three of them together—it had been his saving grace.

“Uecchi’s a good kid,” Haruki said, jostling him out of his thoughts. “I used to think he was conceited when we first met but…” He took the last drag, snuffing it out on the sidewalk.

“Nah,” Akihiko drawled, picking at a callous on his finger, surprised he still got them. “He’s just young. Confidence can come out as arrogance when you’re a teen, but I think he’s pretty humble for the amount of talent he’s got.”

He rolled his shoulder in a stretch, a loud pop sounding in the process.

“You’re right, he is a good kid. He can be a loudmouth,” Akihiko laughed. “But he pays attention. He’s more perceptive than he seems.”

Akihiko could feel Haruki’s stare but he refused to meet it, which is why the other man’s finger was currently jabbing him in the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What?” Akihiko grumbled, though not bothered in the slightest.

“You’re not as scary as you look, you know. You’re sensitive under all that metal.”

Akihiko didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling; he could hear it in his voice.

“Tch, whatever,” he said dismissively, coming to a stand because he was two seconds away from forming a blush. “Let’s go back inside.”

~

Akihiko plopped face first onto his bed, toeing off his shoes from where his feet still hung over the edge of the mattress. Ugetsu was abroad for a competition, and Akihiko wasn’t sure when he got back. It could be today, for all he knew.

He turned over with a groan to stare up at the ceiling, popping the button open on his jeans. He’d overeaten at the restaurant they went to tonight, and was feeling it now. He hoped they hadn’t scared Mafuyu too much with all their talk about finding a part-time job, though he couldn’t deny that having another person to split the studio fees with would be _amazing_. He was barely scraping by despite having multiple jobs, and Ugetsu didn’t even charge him rent. He helped with utilities and groceries because he was too proud not to, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if Ugetsu would stock the fridge if he didn’t do it for them. He would probably forget to _eat_ if Akihiko didn’t shove a plate in front of him half the time—Ugetsu’s life was a mantra of practice, smoke, sleep, repeat. It wasn’t that different from Akihiko’s, but at least Akihiko had a social life, friends to keep him grounded.

He sighed, illuminating his phone. _9:00 PM_. He unlocked it to find the hair tutorial of Haruki still open on his browser from when he’d shown Mafuyu earlier. They’d only watched about 30 seconds of it, and it was a good few minutes long.

Knowing he’d regret it, he hit play and looked on with envy as some dude who wasn’t him ran his hands through Haruki’s long hair. Most of Akihiko’s fantasies about Haruki weren’t sexual—though he definitely had a few of those—they were sweet and tender, allowing him to card his fingers through his hair without restraint. To press his nose to it, his lips, to massage lovingly at his scalp, and okay, yes, to give it a little _yank._

Heat curled in his gut at the thought. At the image of Haruki’s head pulled back, the expanse of his neck exposed...

Akihiko abruptly got up, grabbing his headphones from his bag to slip the padded cushions over his ears. He sat down on the stool in front of his drum kit, wirelessly connecting his headphones to his phone, and clicked on Bring Me The Horizon’s _Sleepwalking,_ cranking up the volume...

...He didn’t deserve to be dreaming about Haruki, not when he was still caught up in whatever the fuck he was doing with Ugetsu.

The minute he felt the familiar weight of drumsticks in his hands, all previous thought began to fade. He slid his feet over the double bass drum pedals, his adrenaline building as he bounced in his seat, waiting for the beat to enter. When it dropped, he stomped his feet down—pounding on the pedals—his sticks crashing on the cymbals. He hit hard and rapid fire fast between the snare and the high-hat, singing as loud as his voice would allow —

_“my secrets are burning a hole through my heart_  
_and my bones catch a fever_  
_when it cuts you up this deep_  
_it's hard to find a way to breathe...”_

* * *

Akihiko stood in front of the drink fridge, the door propped open against his hip as stared at all the options. He had come in to pick up his paycheck, and figured he’d grab something while he was here because why the hell not.

In the end he picked what he always did: a can of cold coffee. He would have grabbed one for Haruki too since he was on his way to meet him, but he knew he didn’t care for them. Guess that’s what happens when you work at a café. _Snob._

Akhiko smirked. Haruki’s tastebuds were _spoiled._ Akihiko certainly appreciated the good stuff, but he’d drink the crappy shit too. He’d drink anything that gave him a little speed.

Bad news for his heart.

“Is that all for you, Kaji-san?” the girl at the register asked when he’d placed his things on the counter. She had just started working here a few days ago, so Akihiko couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Yeah, and a packet of Echo’s,” he said, pointing at the orange cigarette box behind the counter.

While she turned around to retrieve it, Akihiko saw those green tea crunchy chocolates he knew Haruki liked hanging near the magazine racks. He spent so long debating about whether or not to get them, it became embarrassing.

 _Shit;_ what was wrong with him? He never used to overthink these things. Because of that, he decided not to buy them on principle.

He handed over his money and picked up his cigarettes and coffee.

“Thanks,” he smiled, pocketing his change. “See ya tomorrow.”

He pushed open the door, sounding the bell, and headed back towards his motorcycle. He barely made it five feet before his name was called.

_“Kaji-san!”_

Akihiko sighed, recognizing her voice immediately. _Great._

He spun around, plastering a smile to his face.

“Yayoi-chan, how are you?”

“Just heading to class. You?”

“Same,” he shrugged.

They stood in silence as she eyed his bike pointedly.

He folded within a few seconds. His patience was thin today, and he hated when people beat around the bush.

“You, uh, you want a ride?” he asked, knowing she was waiting for him to offer. She did this often. He honestly didn’t mind giving her a lift, he just wished she would come out with it sometimes.

“Oh,” Yayoi blushed, clutching her bag to her chest. “That’d—that’d be great! Thank you!”

“Alright, but you need to wear this,” he said, handing off his helmet. He only had the one, not anticipating a second person this morning, and he wasn’t about to have her ride without it.

“Mm.” she nodded, putting it on and clipping the strap beneath her chin.

He got on first, and she slid in behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso. Akihiko let out a sigh when he felt her rest her cheek against his back. He knew she’d been spreading rumors about them dating, but they were just that. _Rumors_. They’d messed around _once_ at a party a month ago; he’d been tipsy and horny, and she’d been flirting with him all night. She was cute, but also Uenoyama’s _sister,_ and he wasn’t about to go there—not when he didn’t have any real feelings worth sacrificing for.

It was barely a ten minute ride to their university. He pulled into the parking lot and cut off the engine, hopping down from the bike before her. He removed the helmet and fussed with her hair, aware it would only add fuel to the dating rumors, but he was a nice guy, so sue him.

“It was curled,” he explained when she looked surprised by his touch.

Akihiko caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Haruki sitting on a bench with his head in hands. He frowned in concern.

“Well, see ya later,” he said without looking at Yayoi, his attention having been stolen completely. “Make sure you go to class.”

She sputtered out words of protest, but he didn’t turn around.

“Yo Haruki,” Akihiko said when he got to the bench. “You alright?”

“Fantastic,” Haruki replied flatly, massaging at his temples.

O...kay.

Akihiko sat down beside him, pulling out a cigarette.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, clicking open the lighter. He pressed the flame to the tip, never taking his eyes off Haruki. He looked tired.

“Nevermind that,” Haruki said, waving it off. “You saw Uenoyama’s text, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Akihiko snorted. “He wants Mafuyu to join the band.”

“I knew this would happen,” Haruki huffed, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Didn’t think it would be so fast though. I thought we’d at least see him progress with the guitar a little more… and _then_ decide whether or not he’s a good fit.”

“Me too. Which is why I straight up asked Ue why he wanted Mafuyu to join.”

 _“Kaji,”_ Haruki said, with a click of his tongue. “You know Uecchi has a crush on the kid...”

“Then he should ask him on a _date_ , not offer him a place in our band—”

“—Don’t be a dick,” Haruki laughed.

“I’m serious,” Akihiko laughed too. “Anyway… Uenoyama was persistent, saying, ‘You’ll get it when you hear him.’”

Haruki widened his eyes a little.

“...What does that even mean?”

“Beats me. Either Mafuyu has seriously improved his skills overnight, or there’s something he hasn’t shown us yet.”

“Hm. Guess we’ll find out.”

“Guess so.”

Akihiko took a long drag of his cigarette. When he exhaled, he noticed Haruki’s eyes were trained near his mouth.

“Did you want some?” he asked, holding it out, the smoke curling between them.

“Huh?” Haruki replied, dazed, before he noticed Akihiko’s outstretched hand. “Oh—uh—no,” he blushed. “Thanks. I should get to class...”

 _“Haruki,_ you blush so easily,” he teased. “I’m gonna think you have a crush on me pretty soon.”

“G-gah,” Haruki sputtered as he stood up. “I’ll—I’ll see you at the studio later.”

Akihiko chuckled, watching him go. That would be the day, alright. He didn’t think Haruki even _liked_ men, let alone someone as calloused and forward as he was. Whatever. He just wished Haruki didn’t look so fucking cute all the time, with his _stupid_ bangs held back by those _stupid_ clips… that stupid little bun that hung at the nape of his neck. It really wasn’t fair.

He threw his cigarette onto the ground, grinding it into the pavement with the toe of his shoe. He picked it up, tossed it in the trash, and headed to class himself, shoving his attraction back where it belonged, buried in the depths of his heart.

~

“Wait, what did he say?” Akihiko asked, because Uenoyama had mumbled it the first time.

“...’I’ll pass’...”

Haruki burst out laughing, with Akihiko shortly following suit.

“Oh my _god,”_ Haruki laughed, hunched over his bass. “I’m so sorry—I just” —Haruki politely hid his face in the crook of his elbow, his body shaking—“wasn’t expecting that.”

“Judging by Uecchi’s face, he wasn’t either,” Akihiko quipped, buckling into laughter again. He couldn’t help himself. Something about the situation was absolutely hilarious. Imagining soft-spoken Mafuyu “passing” on an invitation to the band, while unaware of Uenoyama’s massive crush on him and the amount of guts he had to summon to do it, was comedic gold.

“Shut the hell up!” Uenoyama barked, his cheeks tinted with a blush.

“Haruki,” Akhiko said, sealing his lips together to prevent another laugh from tumbling out. “Ue-kun’s mad. Stop laughing; you’re being rude.”

“Me?!” Haruki gaped, wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re no better!”

They stared at each for a few solid seconds before their sides split again. Akihiko was weak to Haruki’s laughter—it was infectious.

“I hate you both,” Uenoyama huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “And apparently Sato’s avoiding me now. So there’s that.”

“He’s not avoiding you,” Haruki said with a shake of his head, once he caught his breath. “He has a job interview today.”

“...Oh,” Uenoyama said, his posture loosening. “Wait. How do you know that?”

“He texted me,” Haruki shrugged.

“He _what?”_ Uenoyama snapped.

“It’s where you type these things called words into a pho—”

“—Fuck you, Kaji!” Ue flushed, whipping towards him menacingly.

Akihiko smirked as Haruki sent him a scolding look, or at least his attempt at one. He didn’t think Haruki had it in him.

“... Do you not have his number?” Haruki asked, looking like he was trying his best not to laugh again.

Uenoyama frowned, his eyes glued to the wall before they darted to Akihiko in a murderous glare.

“I don’t have it,” Akihiko lied, holding up his hands placatingly. He did though, and as much as he wished he could laud it over Uenoyama right now, it would only make things worse—oh, to be a teenager who was oblivious to the nature of his own feelings. This must be _torturing_ him, Akihiko thought gleefully.

Haruki was about to turn on big brother mode, Akihiko could read it in his posture. He leaned his elbows on top of his snare, resting his chin in his hands, content to watch Haru coax a feral Ue back into submission.

“Uecchi,” he sighed. “Did you ask Mafuyu _why_ he didn’t want to join the band?”

“Tch,” he scoffed. “No is no. What else is there to say?”

Haruki sighed again, ducking out from underneath the strap of his bass. He sat down on the floor, clutching the instrument to his chest—it looked like practice was going to have to wait.

“Think about it for a second, Uenoyama. It doesn’t add up. Mafuyu’s here all the time, and when he’s not here, he’s _practicing,”_ Haruki emphasized. “He’s at an interview right now for a job that we suggested he get if he wanted to keep playing music; he’s serious about this. There has to be a reason,” he finished gently.

The tension slid right off Uenoyama’s frame, just like that.

_Magic._

“Communicating properly can be hard, I get it, believe me,” Haruki continued. “But music is all about communication, right? It worries me how you shut off when you feel misunderstood or rejected. Sometimes people need to be told or asked things directly. Nobody’s a mind reader, Ue. Try talking to him about it… and make sure you listen.”

Uenoyama remained silent as he shuffled around to pack up his guitar and shrug into his jacket.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he mumbled, not meeting either of their eyes.

He left, the door clicking shut behind him.

“I said too much, didn’t I?” Haruki asked, distraught, his voice disrupting the new silence in the room.

Akihiko looked at him affectionately. He couldn’t exactly say what he was thinking— _yes,_ he knew the irony of that thank you—so he reached out and ruffled Haruki’s hair instead.

“Depends on what you mean,” Akihiko said, Haruki batting his hand away with a blush. “You may have just spurred this love story into action, though.”

“Fucking great,” Haruki laughed, righting his hair. “That’s the last thing we need. Band members dating each other.”

Akihiko swallowed thickly, pretending that didn’t sting him a little… because why would it?

“Mafuyu ‘passed’ on the band, remember?” he joked in distraction.

“God,” Haruki laughed. “Don’t remind me. I almost busted a lung.”

Akihiko smiled and got to his feet, offering his hand to pull Haruki up.

“Hey,” he said, when they were mere inches apart, their hands still clasped. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, hm? You’ve always been the protective one. I like that about you.”

“T-thank you,” Haruki blushed, his eyes blinking back his surprise.

It would be easy to lean in and kiss him right now, Akihiko thought. It would be the easiest thing in the world.

He let go of his hand and turned away, clearing his throat.

“You ready to go?” Akihiko asked. “Kinda defeats the purpose of ‘band practice’ when half our band is missing.”

“Yeah,” Haruki said, moving to pack up his bass. “...But I thought Mafuyu said no to the band?”

“Please,” Akihiko laughed. “Our knight in shining armor is probably convincing him to join right now, equipped with your excellent communication advice.”

“Shut up,” Haruki laughed, shooting him a look.

“Just you watch, Haruki. Tomorrow it’ll be a done deal. Pity we didn’t get to find out Mafuyu’s hidden talent tonight, though. I was looking forward to it.”

“I know! The suspense!” Haruki proclaimed dramatically. “I can’t take it.”

“Heh, nerd.” Akihiko chuckled, poking him in the side. “Come on, let’s go.”

They both swung their bags over their shoulders and shut out the lights.

* * *

It turned out that the secret was Mafuyu could sing. _Really_ sing. His voice was husky and pretty yet passionate and pained—filled with an anguish Akihiko had encountered before, though in a different form. The kind that came from suffering in silence.

Oddly enough, Akihiko thought it was the perfect match for their sound. Haruki agreed, coming up with ways to incorporate Mafuyu into the songs they’d already written. He’d even landed them a show somehow, because Haruki was amazing like that. The band wouldn’t last two days without him.

Akihiko used the arm that wasn’t slung around Haruki’s shoulder to wave goodbye to Mafuyu and Uenoyama, overly stuffed with restaurant food again… and _maybe_ a little tipsy.

 _“Byeeee~,”_ Akihiko called annoyingly. “Be good! Get home safely! Take care of him _Ue-kun!”_

Uenoyama blushed in embarrassment, tugging a wide-eyed Mafuyu along and presumably away from Akihiko, before he had the chance to say anything more incriminating.

“Who’s the protective one now?” Haruki teased.

“Wanna bet how long it’ll take Uecchi to confess?” Akihiko asked drunkenly, leaning his face closer to Haruki’s.

 _Hm. He’s wearing his earrings today,_ Akihiko noted, his eyes lazily dragging along the shell of Haruki’s ear. _Little gold hoops. Cute._

“Be nice,” Haruki said, pushing his face away.

Without thinking, Akihiko stuck out his tongue and licked at his palm.

 _Woops._ Didn’t mean to do that.

Haruki pulled his hand away with a squawk, wiping it down the front of his shirt. He helped support Akihiko’s weight more fully by wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get you home.”

“Mm. To _your_ home.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can crash with me,” Haruki said, as they started walking towards the station. “Don’t you ever worry about leaving your bike here?”

Akihiko spared it one last glance in the restaurant’s parking lot.

“Nah. I’ve got the keys. And most people around here know who it belongs to. They won’t mess with it.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Haruki snorted.

Haruki could make fun of him all he wanted, but Akihiko was being serious. He was no stranger to fist fights, and while he softened his _don’t fuck with me_ attitude around Haruki, it was still very much there — a wall he could flick up in an instant, one crafted for protection and self preservation (one he could never seem to fully erect around Ugetsu, much to his frustration). The fact that he didn’t need it around Haruki was something he tried not to examine too closely.

They made it to the station without a glitch, though Haruki almost tripped when he stepped onto the train.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who drank too much,” Akihiko chuckled, dropping into a seat next to the window.

“Shut up,” Haruki blushed, sitting down next to him. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” Akihiko hummed sarcastically. He rested his head on Haruki’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed. “Real _fine_ example you’re setting. You’re supposed to be the adult here.”

“I’m only two years older than you!”

 _“Ow,_ my precious hearing,” Akihiko joked, covering the ear that wasn’t smushed against Haruki’s shoulder.

“You’re annoying.” Haruki huffed. “Go rest your head somewhere else then,” he said, though made no attempt to move Akihiko.

“You love me~” Akihiko teased, wiggling in his seat as he settled in further, feeling the warm skin of Haruki’s neck press against his temple.

He felt Haruki stiffen at that—maybe because Akihiko was being too clingy, all up in his space like this, but whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time someone told him that; he was too comfy and tired to care right now.

“We really gonna do a live without any lyrics?” Akihiko asked dreamily, his eyes still closed.

Haruki sighed, the tension leaving his frame.

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before; we’ve always been an instrumental band.”

Akihiko picked up his head, slouching low in his seat. He wished he could light up a cigarette.

“Yeah, but Mafuyu’s skills on guitar aren’t great yet. He wouldn’t be adding anything to the band if we stay instrumental.” Akihiko shifted, turning to face Haruki more. “I mean the kid can _sing._ You heard him. I know you think it’ll be too hard for him to write lyrics in time but… I dunno. I think he’ll pull through.”

The train screeched to a halt, and both of them stood up.

“I hope you’re right,” Haruki said.

By the time they reached Haruki’s apartment, Akihiko was practically dead on his feet. One more flight of stairs would have really done him in.

“So… tired…” Haruki mumbled, before falling face first onto his bed. “You can set up a futon anywhere. It’s in my closet.”

“Hm. Too troublesome.”

 _“Hah?”_ Haruki glared at him over his shoulder. “You can sleep on the floor then!”

Haruki shifted onto his back and Akihiko felt himself being dragged forward. Somewhere, distantly, his mind was hissing _don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it_ , but his body kept moving, pulled along like a magnet, remembering what it was like to have his temple pressed into Haruki’s neck a short while ago, his brain hyper fixating on the feeling.

Before he knew it, he was climbing on top of him, nuzzling in, barely having a second to savor it because he immediately started to drift—he had never relaxed so fully or so quickly in his life.

Haruki’s questioning voice was the last thing he heard before passing the fuck out.

~

Akihiko awoke to the sun and a pillow that smelled like Haruki. He smiled, inhaling deeply.

Wait a second.

Neither of those things would be found in his basement masquerading as a home.

His eyes snapped open.

...What the hell was he doing in Haruki’s bed?!

A quick assessment told him he was alone and fully clothed in yesterday’s outfit.

_Phew._

He got up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. When he entered the living room, he found Haruki curled up on a futon on the floor, his soft breathing punctuating the silence.

Huh.

He tip-toed his way over, wondering why _Haruki_ was the one on a futon and not him. A lock of blonde hair was stuck to his lips, and when Akihiko crouched down to brush it out of the way, he was hit with a vivid memory—one where he’d flattened himself on top of Haruki in his bed.

He pulled back his hand as if burned.

 _Shit,_ he thought in a panic, his heart pounding in his chest. Did something happen? If it did, and Haruki was sleeping out here, it meant it went _badly._

He racked his mind, searching frantically, but came up with nothing. Nothing aside from the fact that he’d fallen asleep the second he’d laid on top of Haruki, using him like some sort of personal body pillow. While that was definitely embarrassing, it was something he could recover from.

He sighed with relief—Haruki must have come out here to be polite.

He lifted his watch towards the crack of light spilling in through the blinds, squinting his eyes at the face.

 _Fuck,_ 8:45. He had to be at work in 15 minutes.

He visited the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and gurgled some mouthwash he found in the cabinet beneath the sink.

With one final fond look in Haruki’s direction, he slipped on his shoes and headed out the door.

~

After his shift at the convenience store was over, he quickly stuffed his face with fried chicken from the hot case and hustled off to his next job, helping some wealthy couple move into their luxurious new home. It was ridiculously spacious for only two people, and contained enough paintings and sculptures to rival a museum. Akihko would know; he had to carry them all.

He hopped down from the moving truck and waved goodbye to his co-worker. Thank god Uenoyama wasn’t working with them today. The kid was getting strong, but he wasn’t exactly graceful, and those boxes had been fragile.

Akihiko readjusted his ball cap and rubbed at his shoulder, already feeling the burn in his biceps, knowing he’d be sore as hell tomorrow. He took a left at the street corner and headed over to the restaurant from last night, finally getting his motorcycle. Aside from a few splotches of bird shit on the seat, everything was thankfully untouched and intact.

He came home to find Ugetsu asleep in their bed, a tuft of black hair the only part of him not engulfed by the dark comforter.

“Geez,” Akihiko mumbled, crouching down to pick up one sock, and then another, followed by Ugetsu’s pants all shed in a path to the bed.

He tossed them into the bursting hamper in the closet, making a mental note to do the laundry soon, before crossing to the kitchen to cook some dinner.

Twenty minutes later, a steaming pile of pork fried rice with a soft boiled egg and a small bowl of miso soup materialized. He brought it to the low table situated in the space between his drum kit and their bed, folding his legs beneath him as he sat on the ground.

The sheets rustled, followed by the croak of a voice.

“‘Morning.”

“It’s almost seven at night, Ugetsu,” Akihiko deadpanned.

Ugetsu wormed his way to the edge of the bed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Akihiko’s neck.

“Smell good,” he murmured.

Akihiko snorted. “I haven’t showered in three days.”

 _“Good,”_ Ugetsu insisted, nipping playfully at his skin. “Smells like you.” He stretched out his arm blindly, waving it around. “Gimme some of that.”

Akihiko leaned out of the way, holding his plate up so it wouldn’t get knocked.

“I’ll fix you some if you’re hungry.”

“I don’t want _some,_ I want yours. Bite bite bite,” he chanted childishly, digging his chin into Akihiko’s shoulder insistently.

Akihiko placed his plate on the floor and turned to look at him, pushing his dark hair away from his forehead. _Beautiful bastard._ He didn’t even have to try.

He fed him a bite before placing his plate on the bed.

“Take it,” Akihiko said. “I’ll get more.”

He got up, moving the short distance to the kitchen, and placed the skillet he used earlier back on the stove.

“You’re too good to me,” Ugetsu stated, fork scraping against the plate.

Akhiko froze for a moment. It would have been a sweet sentiment in normal circumstances, but nothing about them was normal—they weren’t dating anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. It wasn’t a loving jest; Ugetsu meant it literally.

He went back to drizzling oil onto the hot pan, chewing at his lip piercing. You’d think he’d be immune by now, but Ugetsu still had the ability to break his heart, even when Akihiko swore there was nothing left to break.

“You, uh, you mind if I practice drums tonight?” he asked, speaking to distract himself. Usually he’d turn on the radio but he wouldn’t be at the stove long, already almost finished. He’d made double the rice and miso to begin with, all he needed to do was fry an egg.

“Go ahead. Wait”—Ugetsu stifled a yawn with the sleeve of his sweater—”you have a show soon, don’t you?”

Akihiko cracked the egg shell against the side of the skillet, not surprised in the least that Ugetsu would put that together without having to tell him. “Yeah. In a few days.”

 _“Wow,_ motivation from Akihiko. I should jot this down in my diary,” Ugetsu teased.

“Tch,” Akihiko snorted, sliding his spatula beneath the egg. “You don’t have a diary.”

“How do you know? Where else would I bubble hearts around your name? _Kaji is so ~dreamy~”_ Ugetsu fawned. _“The perfect house husban_ — ah!” He laughed, as Akihiko bopped him on the head, coming to sit on the floor with his food again.

Ugetsu shifted on the bed, scuttling forward to drape an arm over Akihiko’s shoulder.

“So...” Ugetsu mumbled, mouth pressed against Akihko’s back. “Think you’re good enough for me to come watch?”

Akihiko’s fork stalled at his lips for a second. He turned his head, unable to keep the shock off his face.

“You-you wanna come?” he asked, swallowing his bite of egg.

Ugetsu rolled onto his back, pulling out a cigarette, his fancy zippo clinking open to light it.

“Not _anymore._ You hesitated, which means you aren’t confident.”

Akihiko frowned. While it was true he was unsure whether or not Mafuyu would pull through, his confidence in their sound was solid. That’s not what his surprise was about. What he was surprised about was Ugetsu’s interest; he’d never shown it before. It felt… nice.

Akihiko turned to look at him.

“Ugetsu…”

Ugetsu flitted his eyes towards Akihiko, cigarette pressed between his lips on an inhale, the tip crackling as it burned.

“...I want you to come.”

Ugetsu considered him, releasing the smoke from his mouth in a stream towards the ceiling.

“I’m not going,” he stated bluntly. “There’s no point. Not when you don’t have faith in yourself.”

Akhiko’s eyebrow twitched.

“I do have faith in myself!” he exclaimed, leaning into Ugetsu’s space. “It’s not _me_ I’m worried about!”

“Mm, there he is,” Ugetsu smirked, swiping a finger down Akihiko’s nose. “I knew I could get you to show some spirit.”

Akihiko rolled his eyes in irritation, rubbing at his nose; Ugetsu knew how to get under his skin, and wasn’t afraid to do it.

“Forget I asked,” Akihko pouted, placing his clean plate on the floor. “Invitation officially revoked.”

“I’ll come, you big baby,” Ugetsu laughed. “... _if_ you come with me to my violin duet practice tomorrow.”

“Oh, so your support’s conditional now?” Akihiko huffed. “No thanks. Ask your new violia boyfriend to help you.”

“Pass,” Ugetsu said, rising up to sit. “I like his looks but not much else.”

“Is that right?” Akihiko asked flatly, not believing him.

“Yes. It is,” Ugetsu replied coolly, pushing at him with his bare foot. “He’s not as talented as you. Nobody is. I’ve told you that. Well… nobody aside from me, of course. You haven’t caught up—”

“—would it kill you to give me a genuine compliment for once?”

“I _am,”_ he scoffed. “Half the reason you haven’t caught up to me is because you neglect your practice, Akihiko,” Ugetsu said sternly. “You’re wasting your talent. I’ll never understand it.”

Alright. That was enough of that. He did _not_ want to get into this right now.

Akihiko stood up, grabbing both of their empty plates to place them in the sink. He moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, his hand pausing on the door.

“...I’ll go to practice with you tomorrow.”

“Fabulous.” Ugetsu smiled in satisfaction. “I’ll give you a copy of the sheet music tonight once I finish messing with it. Please look it over.”

Akihiko nodded his understanding, and then sat in front of his drum kit, cracking open his water to guzzle a few cold sips. While he was loathed to admit it, Ugetsu was right. He didn’t practice violin as much as he should, but how would _you_ feel if you had to stand in front of a genius, who was also your ex-boyfriend, and hope he was impressed with your subpar skills in comparison?

Yeah, thought so.

The drums were different. Separate. Something that belonged to him, and him only, not to the both of them. Something Ugetsu wasn’t an expert at and didn’t care enough about to pick a part.

He looked up at Ugetsu — his sound proof headphones already on, chewing on a pencil as he focused on what was presumably the sheet music for tomorrow’s practice — and smiled softly, until his chest was racked with sudden inexplicable pain, acute and sharp, as if some future wisdom was telling him that shared moments like this were coming to an end.

It didn’t matter if he wanted to hold onto it — god knows he tried — it would slip through his fingers anyway. It already had. The concept of time had been freaking Akihiko out lately: one minute you were hopelessly (obsessively) in love, then _whish_ it was two years later and it all felt like a distant dream. A different lifetime. Sometimes he wished he had lived more fully and been more present during the time it was good between them, but that kind of thinking only filled him with regret. Living in the past only perpetuated his suffering, and living inside a shell of what they used to be… well, it hurt like a bitch.

He knew he needed to leave. To move out. He _knew_ it, but that didn’t mean getting his ass out the door was any easier.

Akihiko stripped off his shirt, frustrated. It was already hot as fuck in this basement. Once he started playing it’d only get worse.

He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, glancing up to catch Ugetsu’s eyes scanning his chest, checking him out. It was subtle and probably subconscious, but it was _there._ Akihiko titled his head with a questioning quirk of his brow, bringing Ugetsu’s attention to his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Ugetsu laughed with a blush, looking away.

Yep. Subconscious, alright.

“We both know that’s not how it usually goes,” he grinned.

Akihiko had said it loudly, but he wasn’t sure if it was enough for Ugetsu to hear him.

The pencil flung at his head gave him his answer. He ducked with a laugh, then twirled a stick in his hand and started to play.

* * *

In the remaining time that passed before the live, Akihiko was either working at his numerous jobs or in the studio (he should have been at class more honestly but _priorities_ ). The three of them were super excited about the new song. Haruki came in and laid down the bass like a pro, filling it in by ear as they went like he always did. Akihiko was amazed at how he could do that so easily. As for himself, he needed to fuck around for at least an hour before he hit something he started to like.

He thought Mafuyu was excited too, but it was hard to tell when the kid hadn’t uttered anything resembling a lyric the entire time. Tonight was the night of the concert, and they still hadn’t heard a single word during rehearsal. It was nerve-racking, but they put their trust in him. It was all they could do.

“Akihiko!”

He turned to see Yayoi waving at him excitedly, her face lit up and blushing. He barely had a second to acknowledge her before his eyes moved past her to land on someone else entirely.

Ugetsu was standing there, his hand up in hello, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

…He came.

He _came._

Akihiko hadn’t expected him to, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t secretly hoped.

He side-stepped Yayoi, and plucked the cigarette from Ugetsu’s fingers, taking a drag.

“You actually showed up,” he said, acting a lot cooler than he felt.

 _“Ha,”_ Ugetsu laughed in amusement, repossessing his cigarette. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting much.”

“Asshole,” Akihiko gaped at him, socking him in the shoulder. “Prodigies are kindly asked to keep their mouths shut if they have nothing nice to say.”

Ugetsu held up his hands in defense, a smug smile on his face as he laughed. “I’m gonna go secure my spot. I wanna be close enough for you to see my disappointment clearly.”

He disappeared, weaving his way through the crowd, leaving Akihiko feeling slightly dismantled. Ugetsu had never entered this part of his world before, not even when their band was at its peak, their demo selling out faster than any of them could have imagined.

Ugetsu had always been frugal with his support, so why now? Was there some bigger meaning behind it?

 _Dammit,_ Akihiko cursed, frustrated. Why did it matter? Why couldn’t Ugetsu just show up and it not be a big fucking deal?

Akihiko had asked him to come, and now he was here. It should be that simple, right? Yet it didn’t feel like it. Maybe it was because Ugetsu had been giving him breadcrumbs for so long; these little intermittent moments of positivity that kept hope alive, that made it hard to let go, that kept him dreaming of a time when the nice moments might someday be the norm and not the exception.

He knew it wasn’t a healthy way to live. It was exhausting, and painful. He longed for something more stable. Something gentler—please, _god,_ something gentler.

His attention was caught by Haruki’s name being shouted animatedly. He looked over to see him being dragged away by Yatake, the two of them huddled in a corner, chatting privately about something. He tried not to let it make him self-conscious. The two of them had been close friends for years, and Yatake wasn’t exactly his number one fan.

He stepped over to Uenoyama and Mafuyu for something to do, dropping in on their conversation.

“...look, there’s no point in worrying about it now. We just won’t have any vocals this time. We were an instrumental band originally so… it’s not like it’ll be a big surprise to anyone.”

Uenoyama glanced at him, seeking his opinion.

“Fine by me,” Akihiko shrugged. It wasn’t ideal, but it couldn’t be helped if Mafuyu didn’t have any lyrics. He really thought the kid would have been able to pull through, especially after their talk about reconciling with the past. Akihiko was pretty blunt about it, and knew from experience that it was easier said than done, but he still hoped it would have served as the push Mafuyu needed to express himself.

“There’s always next time,” Uenomaya said, trying to be positive, but apparently Mafuyu wasn’t buying it.

“...next time?” Mafuyu asked softly, his gaze trained on the ground. “What do you mean ‘next time’?”

“You didn’t come up with any lyrics,” Uenoyama said, shifting his weight nervously, as if pointing that out a second time made him uncomfortable. “so… what else are we gonna do?”

A silence passed between them.

“Uenoyama-kun… I think this is the first time I’ve heard you just… give up.” Mafuyu said. He appeared as calm and reserved as he always was, but Akihiko could feel the tension radiating off him—this wasn’t good. They couldn’t go on stage like this; their sound would be all over the place…

 _“What?!”_ Uenoyama snapped.

“You’re always like, ‘you can do it!’ or ‘c’mon!’ Why aren’t you doing that now?”

“Well, we gotta face reality, Mafuyu! Wake up! We’ve got _nothing!”_

 _Goddammit,_ Akhiko inwardly cursed. Mafuyu was clearly asking for encouragement from Uenoyama right now, not doubt. Just as he was about to step in and mediate the conflict, the unthinkable happened—a string on Mafuyu’s guitar _broke._

All three of them looked at it in horror.

“Heeeey,” Haruki said, approaching them all with a smile. It slid right off his face once he got a read on their energy. “Uh… everything alright over here? Are you guys—oh. A string broke? Mafuyu, do you have a replacement?”

Mafuyu shook his head, his eyes distant and glazed.

“No worries,” Haruki said, the smile back on his face as he placed a consoling hand on Uenoyama’s shoulder. “It’s entirely fixable. Uenoyama, run to the store in front of the station and grab some new ones.”

When nobody moved a muscle, Haruki snapped his finger in the space between them all, waving his hand around.

“Hello? Earth to my bandmates?” he laughed. “Why are you acting like it's the end of the world? It’s just a broken string! It happens all the time. You’ve already fixed it for him once, Ue… do it again.”

Uenoyama slowly raised his head, the realization dawning on him.

“I’ll be right back!” he said, before sprinting away.

“Come, Mafuyu,” Haruki said gently. “There’s a room backstage away from all these people. We can wait there until it’s our turn to go on.”

Akihiko was floored by how fast and smooth Haruki had deescalated the situation... but he’d always been like that, hadn’t he? _The peacemaker_. Akihiko was sharply reminded in moments like this. When everything was on the line, you could always count on Haruki to have a clear head. It was comforting to know someone had your back. It felt… safe. In fact, when Akihiko thought about it, Haruki had been a solid presence in his life ever since the day they met.

Haruki was… stable.

_Gentle._

Akihiko remained lost in his admiration until Haruki looked at him, beckoning him along with an incline of his head.

He couldn’t do anything but follow.

Once they’d reached the room, Haruki steered Mafuyu to a set of dressing chairs in front of a lighted mirror, sitting him down in one.

“Do you need anything? Water? Tea? Snack from the vending machine?”

Mafuyu shook his head, clutching his guitar to his chest like a lifeline.

“Alright. I’ll be over there if you need me,” Haruki said, referring to a lumpy couch against the wall. “Try and relax, yeah?”

Akihiko heard a murmured _thank you_ as he moved to join Haruki on the couch.

He sunk deep into the cushion, more so than he expected. He looked down at the rough fabric—it was frayed and worn, and the armrest to his right had a slash in it. Akihiko had a feeling this couch was extremely dirty, but couldn’t see the extent of it due to the dark color, which he assumed was chosen for exactly that reason.

“This—”

“—Don’t say it.” Haruki interrupted him. “I’m trying not to think about it. If we shined a blacklight on this thing, I’d probably puke.”

A deep laugh rumbled through Akihko’s chest. He splayed his knees, knocking one of them against Haruki’s. “You think we’re gonna be alright?”

“Of course we are. I already asked Take-chan to cover for us if anything went down... Though our set list will probably be cut in half, which”—he lifted his body towards Akihiko, reaching into the back pocket of his pants—”we should probably decide on the songs to cut.”

Haruki smoothed the set list over his thigh, pulling a pen out from where it was stuck in his hair bun.

“I think this one can go,” he said, crossing it off. “But we should definitely play this one. It’s got the most plays on our Spotify. People will want to hear it. And...”

His words were drowned out after that. It wasn’t intentional. Akihiko’s heartbeat was suddenly loud in his ears, pulsing and distracting. Haruki’s presence beside him felt entirely new somehow—warmth pooled where their knees were still touching and radiated to the rest of his body.

He’d always been attracted to Haruki; had always housed a crush on him. I mean, _who wouldn’t._ But this…?

This hit different.

“... how does that sound?” Haruki asked, looking up to meet his eyes.

Akihiko’s breath caught in his throat.

“Uh,” he swallowed, but never had time to answer because Uenoyama flung the door open with a bang.

“I got them,” he heaved, bracing one hand on the door frame while the other held up the package of strings in triumph.

“Wow, that was fast,” Haruki laughed, standing up. “I’m gonna go give the PA our updated set list. We’ve still got plenty of time, so chill out a little.”

Watching Haruki start to leave made Akihiko spring into sudden action.

“I’ll-I’ll come with you.”

The minute they entered the narrow, dimly lit staircase, Akihiko’s heart thumped double time, the dam in his chest starting to crack as a surge of emotion rushed to the surface. What it was, he couldn’t pinpoint, all he knew was that he didn’t want the two of them to leave this space. Not yet.

“Hey,” he said shakily, but Haruki didn’t turn around. Sometimes Akihiko swore Haruki actively avoided being alone with him, and he didn’t understand why.

“Haruki,” he tried again, feeling strangely desperate, reaching out to clutch at his bicep. “Wait a second. Please.”

Haruki looked down at the hand wrapped around his arm, then up into Akihiko’s eyes.

“What is it?”

“I—”

Akihiko looked away.

What _was_ he trying to say?

He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of all the white noise in his brain. He’d never wanted a cigarette so fucking bad in his life, but Haruki was looking at him expectantly so he had to say something. Anything.

“Listen,” Akihiko started, letting go of his arm. “I-I don’t know if you know this or not but you’re-you’re always saving us. Stepping in and taking care of things at just the right time…”

“Huh? You mean… for the band?” Haruki asked, his nose scrunched in confusion. “I didn’t really do any—”

“—for the band yeah, but I meant.” Akihiko paused, a little nervous to admit this next part. “I actually meant more for me. You’re always saving me.”

Haruki’s mouth parted in a soft gasp, his voice barely a whisper. “...what?”

Akihiko fiddled with the black ring around his middle finger, spinning it around with his thumb.

“Back when I was… really depressed and hating everything I created, you-you brought me into the band and saved me. Made me fall in love with music again. I’ve never thanked you for that, so... thank you.”

Haruki’s eyes widened, darting back and forth between his own, searching for what, Akihiko couldn’t say.

His breathing came hard and deep as he waited for Haruki’s reaction.

“...is this like one of those scenes where the person gets really honest right before they die?" he asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I don’t think I’m about to die but you never know...”

Akihiko hung his head in a laugh, all the tension of the moment completely sucked out.

God, Haruki was fucking cute. It literally pained him.

“That’s really not how I thought you’d respond but...” Akihiko picked up his head, bracing a hand on the wall covered in flyers from floor to ceiling. He leaned in, unable to help himself, once again realizing how easy it would be to just _kiss him._ “You’re amazing, Haruki. You know that? You should have more confidence in yourself.”

Haruki stared at him and for a moment— _a moment_ —Akihiko swore he saw something flash in his eyes, like Haruki could just as easily lean in and kiss him, too.

Akihiko took a step back, sideswiped by the mere possibility, the air around him growing thick and electric.

Haruki quickly licked at his lips, and then looked towards the door at the top of the stairs. “I should-I should go deliver this set list to Fujimoto.”

“Right. Okay.” Akhiko nodded.

Haruki hesitated for a fraction of a second, offering him a strained smile before jogging up the steps in a hurry.

When he disappeared from view, Akihiko leaned his back against the wall, resting his butt on the railing. He crossed his arms over his chest with a contemplative sigh.

What the hell was _that?_

~

Akihiko wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, fingers still wrapped around his drumstick, his heart beating fast in his chest. He looked up to see Haruki beaming at him, and he couldn’t help the ecstatic smile that graced his face in return.

Mafuyu did it. That brilliant boy. He fucking did it! And judging by the cheers of the crowd, people loved it.

Akihiko breathed hard as he sipped at his water bottle, watching Mafuyu walk towards Uenoyama, collapsing against this chest. Uenoyama led him offstage, and he and Haruki shared another look, but this one read _….uh????_

Haruki spoke into the mic, taking care of it like always, distracting the audience from the fact that two of their band members had walked off the stage and may or may not be returning.

Akihiko ran a hand through his hair as he waited, and remembered what Ugetsu had said about securing a spot close to the stage. He couldn’t see much from where he was sitting, but he didn’t have to scan long to find him: front row, a little left of center, staring _straight_ at him.

Ugetsu stuck out his tongue, feigning disgust. Akihiko laughed, flicking him off in response, to which Ugetsu clutched at his chest dramatically, before someone tapped him on the shoulder. From the looks of it, he was asking for a photo.

Akihiko shook his head in amusement. He knew Ugetsu hated taking photos with “fans.” He found it cheap and tacky— he was an _artist_ not a _celebrity._ There was a difference; one that had to do with integrity apparently.

Uenoyama finally walked back on stage—without Mafuyu—and hey, that was better than nothing. The two of them gathered in front of Akihiko’s kit, leaning in quickly to discuss what to play next since their set list was officially fucked. It didn’t put a damper on Uenoyama’s spirits though— he was practically glowing. _Hm._

They took their places again and Akihiko waited for his cue. The song started with a stretch of quick, distorted guitar work, really showing off Ue’s skill.

Uenoyama’s sound ripped through the air and then Akihiko crashed in.

~

The rest of the night passed quickly. Mafuyu and Uneoyama had left shortly after their performance was over, and Akihiko was under the suspicion that something Big had happened between them. Whatever it was, it was undoubtedly positive. He didn’t blame Mafuyu for being exhausted and wanting to leave. It was his first live after all—not only that, but he had bared his broken heart to a room full of strangers. Akihiko was extremely proud of him.

He had stayed at the venue for a couple more hours with Haruki, watching the remaining acts while hanging out with Yatake and his bandmates. It had actually been enjoyable; Yatake was more amicable to him than usual, but that might’ve had to do with all the beer they'd been drinking.

Several people had approached them about their set and how much they liked it, asking when their next show would be. It felt good. No, it had felt _really_ good to be out there again.

Akihiko scrubbed a towel through his hair, drying it off from when he got out of the shower a few moments ago. He brushed his teeth, pulled on his pajamas, and carefully crawled into bed. Ugetsu was already there, curled up on his side, looking like he was fast asleep.

He turned towards the wall, exhausted all of a sudden. Now that he was finally relaxing, all the adrenaline sustaining him for the past hours having left, he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds.

Just as his eyes fluttered closed, Ugetsu’s fingers grazed the small of his back through his shirt. Akihiko immediately knew what he wanted by how timid the touch was—as if he didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help it—as if he was ashamed or embarrassed. It was light enough that if Akihiko didn’t react, Ugetsu could blame it on him not feeling it instead of rejection. They’d been here a million times before.

Akihiko breathed in deeply through his nose, not knowing if he wanted this tonight.

_Fuck._

Who was he kidding. Of course he wanted it. He always wanted it. Physical touch was his primary love language, and he’d been practically starved of it these past two years.

He turned over with a sigh, lifting up his arm. Ugetsu shimmied up beside him, snuggling happily into his chest, hooking a leg over his hips. Akihiko wrapped him up and pulled him in close, resting his face against the top of his head. He closed his eyes and breathed him in, fighting against the ball of pain that wanted to lodge itself in his throat.

“You did well. It wasn’t a _complete_ waste of my time.”

Akhiko could feel Ugetsu’s smile against his skin. He wished he didn’t warm at the compliment, that he didn’t crave Ugetsu’s praise, but here he was, basking in it.

“What’s the vocalist’s name again?”

“Ma”—Akihiko cleared his throat—”Mafuyu Sato.”

“He’s a natural.”

“Mm,” Akihko agreed with a smile. “Would you believe me if I told you we hadn’t had a single rehearsal where he sang?” Akihiko asked softly, twirling his fingers lazily around the hair at the nape of Ugetsu’s neck. “None of us knew if he had any lyrics. It was a total gamble.”

Ugetsu laughed, the sensation tickling Akihiko’s chest.

“How chaotic. Classic genius move.”

Akihiko laughed too, and then sighed, hand moving just below Ugetsu’s shoulders to trace circles onto his back absently. The thing about living in a soundproof room was that it went both ways—no sound out _or_ in. Sometimes the complete lack of sound unnerved him; he often fell asleep with the chillhop station open in his browser on the nights when Ugetsu wasn’t around, or cracked a window in the summer to hear the cicadas.

“...Ugetsu?”

“Hm?” he hummed sleepily.

“Thank you for coming tonight. It meant a lot to me.”

Ugetsu responded by squeezing at his side.

They settled into the silence then, and Akihiko thought maybe, just maybe, they would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo boy. this shit gun hurt.
> 
> hey, hi, hello!! i've crash landed into the given fandom-happy to be here.
> 
> i'd love to know any and all of your thoughts?? 
> 
> the second part of this chapter is almost complete and will be up before or by **Monday, the 15th.** I hope you look forward to it! the next chapter will be a lot more from my own brain, and cover some of the ~hard stuff~ that's listed up in my tags. as well as dive a lot deeper in akihiko's character etc. i'm suuuuper excited. ヾ(＾∇＾)
> 
> i also have a part II in the works -- a Haruki POV fic to coincide with this one, but that will take me a little bit longer to complete.
> 
> thanks for reading!!! 
> 
> if you wanna chat/scream about given, you can find me [on tumblr](https://ladyxxdaydream.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> see ya soon.


	2. How Do You Spell Epiphany?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. I'm two weeks late, sorry sorry.

Despite the amount of people in his life, sometimes Akihiko still felt incredibly lonely.

His dad had fucked off to England soon after the divorce was finalized. Akihiko only heard from him once a year on his birthday, with a weird stilted phone call and an even weirder card — he always made Ugetsu open it up and read it to him… then throw it out before he could see it.

As for his mom, she was living comfortably in a nice house she’d bought with the settlement money, doing who knows what. She never called him.

He didn’t call her either so he wasn’t pointing fingers, but he had thought she’d want to check in on her only child every once in a while. Like, you know, maternal instinct or something. Maybe she didn’t have it, or at least that’s the excuse Akihiko made for her. She wouldn’t approve of his life anyway; his half-assed pursuit of music nor his personal relationships — the one time he alluded to who Ugetsu was to him while they were still dating, she had hung up on him. That was the last time they spoke. And the last time he tried to explain to anyone who Ugetsu was to him.

Nobody knew.

It wasn’t because he was ashamed of falling in love with a man because _fuck that._ It’s just… when they were dating, he didn’t have anyone to tell. Their relationship was so codependent that neither of them had anyone outside of the other. And by the time Akihiko had entered University and made some real friends of his own, namely Uenoyama and Haruki, his relationship with Ugetsu had gotten so twisted that he didn’t know what to say about it.

He _still_ didn’t know what to say about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try sometimes. It was a lot to keep bottled up, and one day Akihiko was sure the top was going to blow right off.

Today was a close contender. Akihiko had woken up to his clothes pulled from the closet and strewn all over the floor, a frenzied Ugetsu yelling at him to pack up and get out. By the time Akihiko had shoved everything into a bag, Ugetsu had collapsed in a tearful apology, latching onto his leg with shaking hands, begging him not to go.

Akihiko still left — without his bag — but promised to return.

He’d hopped onto his motorcycle and rode without a destination in mind. By the time his brain had caught up to his movements he had already parked, his keys jangling from his belt loop as his feet took him to the front door of the coffeeshop.

He pushed it open and was greeted by a red-faced Haruki, Yatake grinning at him from his stool in front of the bar.

“Yo,” Akihiko said to them both.

“A-Akihiko!” Haruki stammered, waving his hands in front of him. “This-this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Hm?” Akihiko rested his leather jacket on the bar, placing his helmet on top of it. “What’s it supposed to look like?” he asked, glancing between the two of them, feeling like he was missing something.

“Oh, um, never-nevermind, _hah,_ ” Haruki laughed nervously, fiddling with a white cloth. He wiped down the already spotless bar before draping it over the ledge of the sink behind him. “Can I ma—can I get you something?”

Akihiko fell into the stool next to Yatake with a grunt. “You know what I like.”

Haruki dropped a filter into the hopper without a word, filled the siphon bulb with hot water, and then placed the hopper inside it, positioning the entire thing over the small heat source, which reared to life after three curt clicks. While the water was busy heating, Haruki measured out the coffee beans and passed them through the grinder.

Akihiko could feel Yatake’s stare, so he turned to meet it.

“You been good?” he asked.

“Yup,” Yatake said, the word long and drawn out, eyeing Akihiko above his mug as he took a sip.

Akihiko nodded, feeling a little awkward, and he never felt awkward. There was a subtle… _something_ Yatake always seemed to direct towards him whenever they were together. They were four years apart, but age had never been an obstacle to Akihiko before; he befriended people easily no matter what. With Yatake though, he could never break through all the way. It wounded his pride because… well, because Yatake was _cool._ He wanted Yatake to like him.

Haruki placed his cup of coffee in front of him, and Akihiko was thankful to have something to do. He took a sip and smiled a little. _Perfect._

“Oh, Akihiko!” Haruki said excitedly, pulling something out of his back pocket. “Take-chan dropped this off for me. For us, really.” He held the flash drive up between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s a recording of our live performance from last night.”

Akihiko widened his eyes, blowing across the top of his mug. “Really?”

“Really,” Yatake replied. “It’s not the greatest quality, but I wasn’t exactly prepared. It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t have all my equipment on me, so.”

 _“Take-chan,”_ Haruki laughed warmly. “We know you’re talented. No one’s going to judge your skill based on this.”

“Right, well” —Yatake threw back the last sip of his drink, clacking his mug on the bar—”I should head out. I’ve got to be at work soon.” He got up, shouldering into his bomber jacket. “Let me know what you think.”

“I will. Thanks again,” Haruki said, pressing his palms together as he bowed in gratitude. He rose up and watched Yatake go, then turned towards Akihko with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Wanna watch it together when I’m off?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Akihiko smiled into his cup. _Cutie._

“Depends. When are you off?”

Haruki looked at his watch. “In five minutes. By the time you finish your coffee, I’ll be ready to go,” he said, already beginning to untie his apron. “I just have to clock out in the back and grab my jacket.”

Haruki looked at him, waiting for his answer, as if Akihiko would say anything other than yes.

“Get going then,” he teased. He tilted his cup to squint playfully at the contents. “I’ve maybe got two sips left.”

Haruki whirled towards the kitchen door.

~

“Shit,” Haruki cursed around the cigarette between his lips. “I singed my hair again.”

“Pfff,” Akihiko laughed. “Come here.”

Akihiko stepped towards him and reached for his face. He curled Haruki’s hair behind both of his ears, keeping his hands there so the wind wouldn’t blow it back. “Try now.”

Color rushed to Haruki’s cheeks as he raised his hands between them.

“Success,” Akihiko smiled, dropping his hands. He pulled out his own cigarette from his pocket. “Now light mine.”

Haruki tried with the lighter again, but couldn’t get the flame to stay.

Akihiko put the cigarette between his lips and wagged his finger, beckoning Haruki even closer. “Press yours against mine,” he mumbled.

_“...W-what?”_

“You heard me.”

Haruki breathed sharply out of his nose, surprising Akihiko completely as he squared up to him and leaned forward, pressing the tips of their cigarettes together. Akihiko sucked in hard until it crackled, and Haruki’s eyes never left him, burning with stubborn determination.

It made Akihiko hot all over, causing him to cough a little on his exhale.

“I feel for Yayoi-chan,” Haruki mumbled.

“Eh?” Akihiko asked, not following. “Yayoi-chan?”

“Nothing,” Haruki sighed, waving it off. “Nevermind.”

He abruptly quickened his pace and Akihiko tried his best to keep up.

Once they made it to Haruki’s apartment, Akihiko collapsed into the couch, pulling his phone out of his back pocket before he did. The red bar on his battery was so thin he could barely see it—1%.

He sighed. Part of him wished he could let it die and be cut off from the rest of the world, but the other part of him wanted it active incase of an emergency. It had been almost a year since Ugetsu had scared him, but it was enough to keep him slightly paranoid whenever they left things on a bad note.

He got up in search of Haruki, finding him in the bathroom with the door open. A pair of scissors were held in front of his face, with a strand of hair between the blades.

“What are you doing?” Akihiko asked curiously.

“Trimming the burnt part like you suggested,” Haruki said, the snip of the scissors loud in the small bathroom.

Akihiko rose from his lean against the doorframe when Haruki reached for a hair band.

“Let me do it,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Wha—why?”

He plucked the band from Haruki’s fingers. “I wanna make it cute.”

“Do you even know how?” Haruki asked, his voice full of skepticism.

 _“Yes,”_ Akihiko said smartly, starting to gather Haruki’s hair in his hands. He threaded his fingers through it, raking his nails lightly across his scalp as he did so.

“We should do this more often,” he mused. “Playing with your hair is strangely therapeutic.”

When Haruki didn’t respond, Akihiko glanced up to meet his stare in the mirror.

“What?” Akihiko asked, his hands stilling. “You want me to stop?”

Haruki blinked at him a few times before he spoke.

“No... I just — sometimes I wonder if you’re completely oblivious, or if you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Akihiko laughed, cocking his head a little as his hands resumed their petting. “I _have_ watched some of your hair tutorials, Haru. I think I can handle it.”

Haruki groaned, his face heating in a blush. “My point exactly.”

Akihiko didn’t ask him to clarify because he was too focused on his goal: tying Haruki’s hair in a top knot; a style he rarely wore but Akihiko secretly loved.

“Not bad, huh?” he asked, leaning to the side to grin at Haruki better in the mirror.

Haruki briefly met his eyes before turning to leave. “It’s fine.”

“Harsh~” Akihiko pouted. “After all I’ve done for you?”

Haruki rolled his eyes, brushing past him in the doorway.

“Hey,” Akihiko said, following him into the kitchen. “Can I borrow your charger? My phone’s about to die.”

“Sure,” Haruki replied, opening up the fridge. “It’s on my desk next to my laptop. Bring that too so we can watch the live.”

Akihiko went to retrieve them both.

_“You want anything to drink?”_

“Whatever you’re having,” Akihiko called over his shoulder, before stepping into Haruki’s room.

It was pretty minimalistic — a few framed art pieces and posters on the wall; a plant here and there. He had only been in here a few times, and never long enough to observe. He walked over to a bookshelf out of curiosity, but what he found were shelves more full of films than books. Akihiko tilted his head to read some of the titles, but he didn’t recognize any of them except for a few classics and a couple anime.

He crossed over to the desk and grabbed what he came in here for, pausing to glance at a small poster near the lamp of BTS. Akihiko shook his head, snorting out a laugh.

“Bangtan Sonyeondan, huh?” he said when he’d reappeared, plopping onto the couch.

“I won’t accept any shit until you’ve properly listened to them…” Haruki said sharply, from where he was posted up on the floor. “... and then I’ll refute every and all of your criticisms.”

Akihiko threw his head back with a loud laugh. “Make me a playlist then.”

Haruki whipped around to look at him. “Really?!”

Not to pat himself on the back or anything, but Haruki’s hair looked fuckin’ _cute._

“Yeah. Really.”

Haruki smiled happily at him and turned back around to open up his laptop. He scooted backwards to lean against the couch, his arm pressed to the side of Akihiko’s leg as he plugged in the flash drive and opened the file, clicking it into full screen mode.

The minute Mafuyu’s voice came on, Akihiko slid to the floor to sit next to Haruki, immediately mesmerized. He held out his arm in front of them both, showing off the goosebumps prickling his skin.

They watched the entire thing in silence; Akihiko didn’t think either of them had even _breathed._

“We’ve got to show this to them,” Haruki said softly, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Text Ue. We can go out for dinner tonight or something.”

“M’kay, in a second. I wanna watch it again.”

They ended up watching it three more times before they were finally satisfied. Haruki got up to take a shower after that, and Akihiko moved to sprawl himself out on the couch. It was too small for him to lay fully extended, but he did it anyway, his feet hanging over the armests. He pillowed his head on one of his arms and stared up at the ceiling.

Seeing that video had given him a whole new perspective on their band. They still needed some work, especially Mafuyu — his fingers had barely moved on his guitar — but the potential was glaringly obvious.

Before Akihiko let himself get too excited, they needed to have a serious conversation about what they all wanted and expected. And they should probably decide on a new name, now that they were no longer the same band from when they played under it.

Akihiko sighed and closed his eyes. He’d had a late night last night, working door security at a club in the city. It was boring as hell, and his feet always killed him at the end of a shift, but the pay was decent and they gave him a discount on drinks whenever he wasn’t working. Any job that also helped him save money on things, was a good one in his eyes.

He briefly wondered if Haruki liked to go out dancing, before he drifted off to sleep.

~

When Akihiko got home that evening, he was in an extremely good mood. He felt light and happy and honestly it had been so long since he felt like this it almost felt foreign.

it didn’t go unnoticed by Ugetsu.

“Someone had a good day.”

Akihiko turned around from where he’d been changing his shirt, a wide grin on his face.

“ _And_ the air conditioner’s on…” Akihiko acknowledged. “A good day, indeed.”

“Mm. I finally turned it on. It was getting insufferable in here.”

“Wanna see something cool?” Akihiko asked, retrieving his laptop from where it was plugged in near his drum kit on the floor.

“No.”

“What! Come on,” Akihiko said, sitting down beside him anyway. “Why not?”

“Last time you showed me ‘something cool’ it was a fight scene from Naruto, Akihiko,” Ugetsu deadpanned.

Akihiko laughed. “That _was_ fuckin’ cool. And Kakashi was hot as hell with his mask all ripped.”

“...I think I might actually hate you.”

“Pfff. It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy something that wasn’t music related, you know. You need to loosen up a little, ‘getsu.”

Ugetsu raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you offering yourself up for this task?”

“I—” Akihiko snapped his mouth shut with a sigh. “Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”

Ugetsu knocked into him with a laugh, and then stayed pressed up against his side.

Akihiko spared him an unamused glance — he was wearing a cable knit turtleneck that looked several sizes too big, and _very_ familiar.

“...Is this mine?” Akihiko asked, tugging at the sleeve.

“It’s certainly not mine.”

Akihiko rolled his eyes. For not being together anymore they sure acted like a couple sometimes. But then again, they’d always had a hard time drawing boundaries with each other. As if that wasn’t obvious — they still slept in the same damn bed.

“Are you going to show me what you’re so excited about or what?” Ugetsu asked, examining his nails to feign boredom.

 _”Patience,”_ Akihiko chastised, his fingers typing on the keyboard. He pulled up their newly made social media account; they had uploaded Yatake’s video a short while ago. It already had several hundred hits and more than a handful of followers — _whoa._

“Given?” Ugetsu inquired.

“That’s our new band name...”

“That’s terrible,” Ugetsu said, wrinkling his nose.

“Tch. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“No? Isn’t that the whole reason—”

“—just _shh._ ” Akihiko said, and hit play.

“Ah, I see...” Ugetsu mused when it started. “...guess we’re in an era where people post their own videos now, hm?” He rested his hands on Akihiko’s shoulder, propping his chin on top of them. “I’m surprised your bandmates know how to do all this.”

“We don’t,” Akihiko snorted. “That’s all Haruki magic.”

Speaking of Haruki, watching it in Ugetu’s presence felt a lot different than watching it in his — Akihiko found himself being a lot more critical of their performance. In fact, it was starting to not sound good at all.

“Man...” Akihiko said, scratching at the side of his nose. “...knowing how we sound live, this sounds like shit in comparison. It’s not even close.”

“Don’t say that,” Ugetsu said, lifting up from his shoulder to pull out a cigarette and light it. He handed it off to Akihko after he hit it.

Akhiko took a drag and handed it back.

“Music really is all about the live performance, huh?” he said, after his exhale.

“Yes,” Ugetsu agreed with a nod. “But it’s not… bad. All things considered.”

“Gee, thanks.” Akihiko said flatly. He stretched his arms up and over his head. “Have you eaten?”

Ugetsu was still staring at the screen, lost in thought. The cigarette burned idly between his fingers, seemingly forgotten.

Akihiko frowned.

“Hello? Anybody home?” he asked, lightly tapping against Ugetsu’s skull.

“Hm?” Ugetsu hummed.

“I asked if you’ve eaten.”

Ugetsu took a drag from his cigarette before turning to look at him.

“Today? Or recently?”

“That’s not funny.” Akihiko said sternly, his heart twisting. Ugetsu probably _hadn’t_ eaten today.

Akihiko stood up, moving to the counter where he’d dropped his bag earlier.

“I brought home some leftovers for you, but if you don’t want that, I can make you some yakiso”— Ugetsu embraced him from behind, pressing his face into Akihiko’s back.

Just as quickly as it happened, Ugetsu pulled away.

“Leftovers are fine. I can do it,” he said, shooing Akihiko away.

Akihiko shot him a skeptical look before he snatched his phone from his bag and dove onto the bed, leaving Ugetsu be. He rolled onto his back and illuminated the screen, pleasantly surprised to see a flood of texts from Haruki. He opened them up:

>> _your life is about to get drastically better. you can thank me later_  
>> _faves include black swan, life goes on, mic drop, lie, make it right, silver spoon and 00:00_  
>> _oh and burning up. that song is fiiiiire (pun intended)_  
>> _.... actually i can’t choose. just the whole playlist ksjdhgjs_  
>> _also i will not be your friend anymore if you don’t like it_  
>> _just kidding… maybe *knife emoji*_  
>> _… let me know your bias <3 ~ _

With every new text Akihiko read, his smile grew wider. He leaned across the bed to grab his padded headphones from the floor, and plugged them into his phone. He clicked on the Spotify link and settled into his pillow, preparing himself for the — _holy shit_ — two hour long playlist.

Fuck it. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he miraculously didn’t have to work at one of his million part time jobs.

He hit play and laughed as the sultry piano for _Airplane pt. 2_ met his ears.

...It was gonna be a long night.

* * *

“You can drop me off here,” Akihiko said, craning his neck around to gaze behind him through the open top of the convertible. He had told Mafuyu to meet him a block away. If he got out of the car here, he’d have some space to backtrack.

She pulled over to the curb and rolled the car to a stop.

“Kiss me goodbye.”

“No,” Akihiko said curtly, unbuckling his seat belt. She had already paid him, he didn’t owe her anything else.

“For fucks sake.” She rummaged through her purse in aggravation, shoving a handful of bills at him. “Make it count.”

He leaned in and kissed her, slipping in a bit of tongue as per request.

“Good boy,” she said condescendingly, patting him on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

Akihiko offered a grunt in reply as he shouldered into his pack and got out of the car. He watched her drive away, feeling a little numb, which is probably why he didn’t notice Mafuyu coming up behind him.

“K-kaji-san?”

Akihiko whipped around.

“...she paid you?”

Akihiko looked down at the extra bills in his hand before shoving them into his pocket.

“Eh...” He laughed nervously, scratching at his neck. “She’s just—we, uh—she’s just like that,” he said vaguely. “It wasn’t—anyway!”

He clapped Mafuyu on the shoulder, who just blinked at him with wide eyes. A lot of people thought Mafuyu didn’t have a lot going on upstairs, but Akihiko felt differently. The two of them had started hanging out one-on-one more after Haruki’s birthday, and he had learned a lot about the kid since. Mafuyu saw things, and right now, it was more than Akihiko wanted him to.

He turned and started to walk along the sidewalk, heading them in the right direction.

“Haruki thinks you’ve changed, but that’s not it, is it, Akihiko?” Mafuyu asked softly. “You just don’t show this side to him.”

Well, shit.

Akihiko kept quiet. Saying anything to the contrary would be a lie. It was true, he did hide a lot of his life from Haruki, mostly because he was embarrassed about it.

He ruffled a hand through Mafuyu’s red hair affectionately before continuing on their way.

“We turn right up here,” Akihiko said, as Mafuyu’s phone rang.

He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at it, then put it back.

Akihiko looked at him questioningly.

“It’s Uenoyama-kun.”

“And you’re not going to get it?” he asked curiously.

“I’ll call him later.”

Akihiko didn’t press him. While he couldn’t say he had been surprised when they’d shown up at his doorstep and announced they were dating — given the transparency of Ue’s feelings — he did wonder how Mafuyu was handling it all. It was abundantly clear he wasn’t over his ex-boyfriend, understandably so, but having a new boyfriend on top of mourning a past lover was a lot to emotionally process.

They arrived at their destination a few minutes later, and climbed up the front steps. Ugetsu’s performance was being held at the concert hall of their University. It was less grandiose than some of the places Akihiko had seen him play at, but he knew it’d still be impressive to Mafuyu. Hell, Ugetsu could perform inside a dingy, dirty bar and make it feel classy and unforgettable.

As this was a showcase of several talented and gifted students, Ugetsu would only be playing one piece, but that alone could be enough to change your life. Akihiko had timed it so they’d arrive just before he went on — his performance was scheduled last, which was truly an act of courtesy, because whoever came after him would sound juvenile in comparison.

“Thank you for the ticket,” Mafuyu said, once they’d found their seats. “I’d never heard classical music until I listened to those CD’s you lent me. It was really good.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, but it’s not me you have to thank”— Akihiko leaned back in his seat as Ugetsu appeared on stage — “It’s him,” he said, with a nod in Ugetu’s direction. “He took an interest in you after he saw you sing.”

 _Shit, Ugetsu,_ Akihiko inwardly cursed when he finished speaking, feeling embarrassed on his behalf. He looked disheveled and barely there. Akihiko used to be by his side before he went on stage, making sure he was put together and presentable, but those days were long gone now.

...He could have at least brushed his hair, for fuck’s sake.

“He saw me sing?” Mafuyu asked, starry-eyed, as the musicians started to ready themselves.

“Yep, at our first show.”

They’d played their second show not too long ago, and Akihiko wished Ugetsu had seen that one instead — they were much more prepared and in sync with each other, since they were able to practice the song _with_ the lyrics beforehand this time.

The orchestra gently broke the silence of the hall.

“Why is he standing alone?” Mafuyu asked quietly, referring to Ugetsu. He had just placed his violin on his shoulder, readying his bow.

“...Because that’s how a violin concerto works...”

No matter how hard Akihiko tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming, he was never, ever prepared. The second Ugetsu played the first few notes into existence, long and drawn out, Akihiko’s breath caught in his throat, feeling utterly _devastated_ , as goosebumps broke out across his skin. He watched as Ugetsu’s face sifted through several emotions; the way his body swayed and jerked, unable to hold still, unable to hold back.

It made his heart clench in his chest.

He had stopped coming to Ugetsu’s performances because it made him fall in love all over again. When Ugetsu played, his soul poured out of his body. Akihiko could _hear_ Ugetsu’s voice in the strings — as if they were his own vocal chords — speaking his anguish and pain into existence. His joy, his _love._

Akihiko longed to see that amount of vulnerability and expression from him off stage, but it never happened. It was the main reason their relationship had failed. Ugetsu held back in person, but when paired with his violin, there was nowhere to hide. It would affect his performance if he did, and Ugetsu was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Akihiko had a better hold on himself now, but only just — a complicated mix of emotions were flaring to life inside him: love and lust, adoration and admiration.

He closed his eyes with a sigh, letting Ugetsu’s sound color his vision, bits and pieces of memories flashing through his mind. Some were innocent and some were heated, stoking a fire he hadn’t felt in awhile.

He shifted in his seat, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

This was exactly why he had stopped coming.

Akihiko glanced at Mafuyu, reminding himself why he was here in the first place. His eyes were wide and focused, his brow furrowed in concentration. When the piece came to an end, Mafuyu spoke right away.

“Kaji-san,” he whispered, a little choked up. “I—I want to write more songs.”

Akihiko smiled, happy and relieved to know that Mafuyu was different than he was at seventeen; Ugetsu was inspiring Mafuyu to be better, instead of making him want to quit.

His phone vibrated from his pocket — Haruki was calling him.

“Yo,” he answered, once the clapping had died down.

_“Hey, you busy?”_

“Not anymore.”

_“Let’s meet for dinner. I got news from the CAC that I want to share with you all in person.”_

“Ooo~ mysterious.”

Haruki laughed from the other end of the line.

_“Have you heard from Mafuyu? Uecchi said he’s been texting him all day but no response.”_

Akihiko glanced at him; he was still staring at the stage, his eyes glazed over.

“Yeah, he’s with me.”

 _“Oh.”_ Haruki sounded surprised. _“Perfect, then. Wanna meet at the Mcdonald’s near my work in twenty?”_

“Alright, we’ll head there now.”

_“Cool, see you soon.”_

“Peace.”

Akihiko hung up.

“That was Haruki,” he said, rocking up on his hip to pocket his phone. “He wants to meet up with us and Ue-kun for dinner. Said he’s got something to tell us about the CAC. That alright with you?”

Mafuyu nodded.

“You sure?” Akihiko asked, just in case. If Mafuyu was needing space, he didn’t want to force them to come together.

“I’m not avoiding Uenoyama… I’d like to see him.”

“Alright,” Akihiko said, coming to stand. “Let’s go then.”

~

Akihiko scrubbed at his wet hair with a towel, refreshing Given’s twitter page from where his phone rested on the ledge of the bathroom sink, still unable to believe their dramatic spike in followers.

Haruki had informed them they’d passed the second round of the CAC by the means of an internet poll. Hundreds of comments had flooded in as a result, the majority of them enthusiastic and supportive. Akihiko felt ecstatic but nervous — the third round would be judged live and it was a huge opportunity.

He stared at the banner on the top of their page and smiled. They looked fucking _great._ Yatake had done an amazing job with their promotional photos, which was a miracle in itself, considering none of them could keep a straight face for more than five seconds.

Akihiko brushed his teeth and scooped up his phone, walking barefoot to bed. He ungraciously flopped onto it, bunching a pillow below his chin as he laid on his stomach. He scrolled through their page and read more comments, coming across one that made him pause.

_whoever’s posting these photos has eyes for haruki_

_ikr,_ someone had replied. _but can u blame them?_ (❤ω❤)

Akihiko dragged his thumb up the screen to look through their feed, his face growing hotter by the second.

He _had_ posted mostly pictures of Haruki without even realizing it — their very first post was Haruki glancing over his shoulder at him. And then there was one from his birthday, one showing the length of his hair, one of him throwing up a peace sign with his eyes all squinted that was so fucking cute it made Akihiko want to die.

“Oh my _god,_ ” he groaned, feeling called out.

He rose to his elbows and searched his camera roll for something to post that wasn’t Haruki, but the only one he had was of Uenoyama and Mafuyu slumped against each other on the studio floor, asleep. While that was adorable, it was also a little incriminating, and Haruki had made it abundantly clear that their dating life needed to stay _off_ social media. Akihiko wondered what the rules were about pining... because apparently his was fucking showing.

 _“Agh,”_ Akihiko huffed. He put his phone on airplane mode, and placed it on the ground through the crack between the wall and the bed that was just large enough for his hand. He rolled onto his back, tucked himself beneath the covers, and tried to fall asleep despite his fluttering heart.

When he first heard his name, he thought it was part of a dream.

_“Akihiko~”_

The voice was sultry and flirtatious, floating softly through the silence.

Akihiko narrowed his eyes into a glare, turning onto his side to face the wall.

 _“Akiiihiko,”_ Ugetsu sang, his keys hitting the counter. “Don’t tell me you fell asleep already.”

Akihiko heard the soft slide of fabric from where Ugetsu had loosened his tie, and the clunk of his dress shoes hitting the floor as they left his feet. When the mattress dipped behind him with Ugetsu’s weight, he grit his teeth.

“No response, _really?”_ Ugetsu taunted him. “You aren’t going to _praise_ me?” He placed his hand on Akihiko’s leg, only to drag it slowly up his thigh.

Akihiko breathed in deeply through his nose.

_Inhale, exhale._

“I know you’re turned on,” Ugetsu purred, hand curling over Akihiko’s hip, giving it a squeeze. “After my performances, you’ve always wanted to fuck me...”

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhal_ —fuck it.

Akihiko shot up, flipping around to pin Ugetsu against the bed, grinding his hips down hard as he sank his teeth into the other man’s neck.

 _“Akihiko,”_ Ugetsu laughed. “Were you expecting to have sex tonight? Is that why you’re still awake?”

Akihiko stilled, reaching back to unlock Ugetsu’s ankles from where they’d wrapped around his waist.

“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me right now,” he growled, frustrated.

It was always like this — push, _pull_ ; shove, _kiss_ ; I want you, _don’t touch me_ ; I love you, _move out._

Ugetsu reached for his face but Akihiko smacked his hand away.

“Answer me,” he demanded. If Ugetsu was just teasing him, he was going to be pissed.

“Quit being so uptight,” Ugetsu chastised him, reaching for his face again. This time Akihiko let the touch reach him because _fuck,_ he wanted it. He’d been craving Ugetsu for hours, the feeling clawing at his gut. He hadn’t been expecting to have sex, no, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t hoped or fantasized.

...He wasn’t about to admit that to Ugetsu’s smug face, though.

Ugetsu’s cold fingers caressed his cheek, his jaw, then grazed his labret, before he pushed two of them past his lips and into his mouth. “You’re so quick to anger, Kaji. So _predictable.”_

He pressed down onto Akihiko’s tongue, and a treacherous sound escaped his throat as he shuddered. Akihiko firmly wrapped his hand around Ugetsu’s wrist and licked at his fingers, at the phantom indentations from pressing the strings of his violin a short while ago — Akihiko hated the fire that burned in his chest at the thought.

He tightened his lips and sucked, drawing a dirty moan from Ugetsu’s mouth, his body arching towards Akihiko’s with obvious desire.

“I don’t want you to _stop,”_ Ugetsu whispered breathlessly, while his other hand tugged at the strings on Akihiko’s sweatpants. “I want you to make me come apart.”

Akihiko groaned his approval. He dropped down, catching Ugetsu’s mouth in a bruising kiss, and wished he was a stronger man.

~

The following morning was surprisingly pleasant. That is, until Ugetsu opened his mouth.

“We need to stop doing this.”

Akihiko sighed from where he was making coffee shirtless at the counter.

“You’re as much to blame as I am.”

“I said _we,_ didn’t I?” Ugetsu snapped, annoyed.

Akihiko handed him a cup of steaming coffee, unphased by his rudeness.

“You’ve got a hickey,” he said, amused, pressing his finger to the mark on Ugetsu’s neck.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours, arguably. You _were_ the initiator.”

Ugetsu scoffed. “So you’re telling me you wouldn’t have tried anything when I got into bed?” He shook his head as he sipped at his coffee. “I don’t believe you at all.”

“I was _asleep_ —you know what, it doesn’t matter,” he said, starting to feel annoyed too. “It happened. It’s over.”

“Is it, Akihiko? How long have we been saying that?”

Akihiko bit his lip in frustration. He meant ‘it’s over’ as in, last night undeniably happened, and there’s no reason to talk in circles about who was to blame for it.

“What is it that you want from me right now?” Akihiko asked. “Because I’d rather not stand here and bicker with you all day.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

The answer came quick and sharp with no hesitation at all.

Akihiko huffed air out of his nose.

“You say that Ugetsu, but you act a whole lot differently.”

Yes, they should have stopped living together a long time ago, but one of the reasons Akihiko hadn’t left yet was because Ugetsu accepted (and sometimes encouraged) his little ministrations of love and affection. He had toned himself _way_ down — Ugetsu had accused him of being too clingy in the past and it left a scar — but he still found comfort in their touch, however minimal and mostly platonic it was. He still equated Ugetsu with home. Even if it was broken and dysfunctional, it was still _theirs._

Ugetsu remained silent and stoic, ignoring Akihiko’s critique, and _god_ he wanted to just go over there and shake him.

He took a deep breath.

“Are you going anywhere today?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Ugetsu said quietly, glancing down to where he was wringing his hands in his lap. The rest went unsaid: _but I might if this tension remains._ It was brief, but Akihiko saw it flash on his face — _pain._

Akihiko wanted to kneel before him and kiss it away, but that would only make it worse. They really _did_ need to stop doing this. They were only hurting each other.

“...Would you like some breakfast?”

It was a peace offering. Cooking for someone had always served as a way for Akihiko to say things without actually having to say them. In this case it was _I’m sorry._

“That’d be nice,” Ugetsu accepted, pulling the blankets back from his waist. “Do you need any help?”

Akihiko stared at him flatly. “Do you even know how to hold a knife?”

“Please,” Ugetsu said with a click of his tongue. He moved to the closet, and stepped into a pair of linen pants while Akihiko turned on the radio. “I think I can handle it.”

Considering they uh, didn’t sleep much last night, Akihiko had crawled back into bed after breakfast with a full belly, and promptly passed out for a few hours.

“Akihiko...”

Akihiko grunted, removing the pillow from beneath his cheek to place it over his head.

 _“Akihiko!_ Someone’s at the door.”

“You get it,” he mumbled, twisting his legs beneath the sheets, having zero desire to move.

“Why?” Ugetsu asked, his voice louder now, having come into the room. “It’s never for me.”

 _“Maaaah,”_ Akihiko whined, lifting up the pillow to peek at him. “Let them leave then.”

“Unbelievable,” Ugetsu sighed, climbing up the stairs.

Akihiko disappeared beneath his pillow again, tugging the blanket up past his neck, already starting to drift.

He couldn’t tell if he’d been asleep for five seconds or five minutes, before he was woken up again by the sound of a guitar.

...A guitar?

He sat up to rub his eyes, blinking himself awake. Not that he needed any help — once he saw the scene in front of him, he quickly rose up, walking on his knees to the edge of the bed.

 _“What the actual fuck?”_ he whispered.

Mafuyu was sitting on the floor, strumming away, with Ugetsu sitting across from him, listening intently.

 _“Shh,”_ Ugetsu said, smacking at him absently.

Akihiko kept respectfully quiet, coming to sit down next to Ugetsu. Mafuyu was playing a chord progression he’d never heard before; it must be for a new song. He harmonized a bit with his voice — back to the _la la la_ he always reverted to when he didn’t have any real lyrics yet.

“Hm…” Ugetsu hummed, when Mafuyu stopped. “That wasn’t good at all.”

Akihiko froze, forcing himself not to laugh out of sheer shock. Ugetsu had always been blunt, but _damn._

“You lost control of the tune around the progression, near the third measure. You went la _la_ la ~” Ugetsu sang. “But I think you meant _la_ la l-a ~”

Akihiko gaped at him, and then Mafuyu, who was equally at a loss for words.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ugetsu said, when he got no response. “But that _is_ the emotion you wanted to convey, right?”

Mafuyu nodded his head quickly, his eyes wide and sparkling, looking like an excited puppy.

All Ugetsu did was smile, and Akihiko was taken aback by how genuine it was — Ugetsu was enjoying himself. The thought warmed his heart.

“Well,” Akihiko said, coming to a stand as he glanced at the digital clock in the kitchen. “I made plans with Haruki today, but feel free to stay here and hang out with Ugetsu for as long as you like, Mafuyu.”

Akihiko sincerely hoped he would — Ugetsu could use some company that wasn’t his own.

He grabbed a set of clothes from the closet and headed to the bathroom to freshen up and change. Haruki had asked him if he wanted to go see some art film at the indie theater today. Akihiko had said sure, because why the hell not.

Beforehand though, they were stopping at a music shop to check out some drum dampening pads called moongels that Akihiko recently read about. They were supposed to muffle the higher frequency ringing and overtones out of the snare (or whichever drum you put it on), and Akihiko was eager to hear it for himself. He kept an o-ring on one of his toms, and it worked great, but it didn’t give him the effect he wanted on the snare. When they played live, it didn’t matter much, because the sound was cancelled by everything else going on, but when he practiced alone or in the studio, it bugged him, and he didn’t have the money to buy a better quality snare. If a cheap hack existed, he was all about it.

He tugged on a ball cap — hair still messy from sleep — laced up his combat boots, and with one final fond look in Mafuyu’s and Ugetsu’s direction, headed up the stairs and out the door.

* * *

Akihiko couldn’t stop thinking about how Haruki had called him “a jack-of-all-trades but master of none” the other day. He knew Haruki meant it as a compliment, but something about it irked him.

Maybe it was because it echoed some of his own negative thoughts; how if he took the violin (or even the drums) more seriously, he _could_ master them. Eventually. He knew he was talented... but he lacked the discipline, and the self-confidence. Plus, with all the jobs he worked in addition to school, he simply didn’t have the time.

Ugetsu always told him that “not having the time” was a poor excuse, and maybe it was, but Akihiko also wasn’t financially sponsored for his talent, nor guaranteed a spot in the symphony after graduation unlike _someone_ he knew.

 _Feh._ He broke his take-out chopsticks and moved around his udon, trying to cool it down. He wished he had ordered cold soba instead — it had been pouring rain ever since he got home, and the basement had gotten incredibly humid.

He turned on the radio to distract him from his thoughts, tuning into a horror program that had aired in the US through the 1940’s and 50’s called the _Inner Sanctum._ It had been translated from English to Japanese, and it combined thrilling short stories with campy humor. Akihiko _loved_ it, and Ugetsu too. They had discovered it during a monsoon, when he and Ugetsu were stuck inside for several days with nothing else to do.

 _“This is the story of a man who could not only hear every sound on earth but even things that don’t exist…”_ came the distorted, staticky voice. _“so turn on the lights, call in a friend or neighbor to keep you company, and listen to this story inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Tell-tale Heart…’”_

Akihiko snorted and settled in. It was rather dark in the room due to the thick overcast, but that only added to the mood.

_“‘... you see, my name is Simon. I was a musician. Two years ago, I went stone deaf. Sudden. Completely. Do you know what deafness means to a musician? It’s like dying. Or worse, like dying and knowing that you’re dead.’”_

Akihiko shuddered. This hit a little too close for comfort.

_“‘Why the doctors, they could do nothing for me. Until finally, they sent me to the doctor with the place up on the hill here.’_

_‘And he cured you? You can hear?’_

_‘Hear? Listen hard, and tell me what you can hear right now.’_

_‘Nothing very much. The wind. Crickets.’_

_‘Crickets, hm? Wind?’”_ The man laughed darkly. _“‘You know what I can hear?’”_

The front door creaked open and Akihiko literally jumped, splashing broth onto his jeans.

Ugetsu came bustling down the steps, looking rather pleased despite just coming in from the horrible weather.

“Guess who I met today,” he said, shrugging out of his cardigan. He draped it over the counter, turned down the radio, and came to sit on the edge of the bed.

Akihiko barely spared him a glance over his bowl of udon, feeling crestfallen at his story being interrupted.

“Not even gonna play along?” Ugetsu asked. “You’re no fun,” he pouted, flicking at the bottom of Akhiko’s socked foot.

Akihiko continued to eat, knowing Ugetsu would tell him anyway. He was just pausing for dramatic effect.

“...Haruki Nakayama.”

Akihiko’s heart stopped. He shoveled in the noodles dangling from his mouth with his chopsticks and swallowed, coughing a little on the broth.

_“...what?”_

“It was purely coincidental—”

“—I’m supposed to believe that?”

“It _was._ Why are you getting so defensive?”

Why _was_ he getting so defensive? It’s not like he had anything to hide from Ugetsu, nor did he owe him anything anymore, so what was this feeling? Maybe it was because _Haruki_ didn’t know about _Ugetsu._

“Don’t you want to know how it went?” Ugetsu asked when Akihiko didn’t respond.

“No.” Though he knew he really didn’t have a choice in the matter; it was a rhetorical question.

Ugetsu rolled his eyes.

“This rain started as I was walking home from practice so I took shelter in that cafe on third street. I’d never been there before and what do you know? He was working behind the counter. He makes delicious coffee, Akihiko. I’d suggest you go try it, but I have a feeling you go there often.”

“And? So what if I do? We’re bandmates, Ugetsu. He’s my friend.”

“He’s completely in love with you,” Ugetsu deadpanned. “You do know that right?”

Akihiko scoffed.

“You’re out of your mind, Ugetsu.”

“Hm. While that may be true, it doesn’t mean you get to joke about it.”

Akihiko’s jaw dropped open. “I would never. That’s not—”

“—I know,” Ugetsu said, waving it off as he scooted a bit closer. “I mean it, Akihiko. All I had to do was mention your name to reduce him to a blushing, stuttering mess.”

“Haruki’s always like that,” Akihiko said dismissively, though his chest tightened at the implication.

“Is he?” Ugetsu asked, picking at the frayed knee of Akihko’s jeans. “Or is he just _always_ like that around you and you can’t tell the difference? You can be oblivious when it comes to people’s interest in you, you know. It’s annoying, but part of your charm — _ridiculously_ hot, but surprisingly humble.”

Akihiko jostled his knee to get Ugetsu to stop pulling at the threads.

“Did he know who you were?”

“It’s not uncommon for people to recognize me.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“He knew who I was, but not who I was to _you._ We do all go to the same school, Akihiko… but I didn’t enlighten him about our relationship, so you can relax. All I said was that I had been at the live, and mentioned you were an acquaintance of mine.”

“So you lied to him then.”

“Did I?”

_Acquaintance. Tch._

“That’s low, even for you,”

“Oh, come on. I’m teasing. I didn’t mention you were my ex-boyfriend because I knew you wouldn’t want me to. It was out of respect for you. I know you’re a private person, and it was obvious he didn’t know. I wasn’t about to be the one to tell him; I wouldn’t do that to you.”

For as much as they fought in private, they still cared deeply about each other, and Akihiko could feel it in moments like this. Ugetsu understood him well — Akihiko _did_ feel respected. And a little relieved.

“...Akihiko, do you like him?”

Akihiko glared at him.

“What? What’s that look for? You’d be a fool not to. I only talked to him for twenty minutes and he was easily the kindest person I’ve ever met…. He even gave me his umbrella! Since I didn’t have one on me, and told me to keep it.”

 _Heh._ Sounded like Haruki alright.

“...And he’s exceptionally pretty. Seems like your type.”

“Did you really just use that as a way to compliment yourself?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Akihio’s heart thumped hard in his chest. He swallowed thickly.

“I—” Akihiko paused. He couldn’t deny his attraction to Haruki; he’d had it since the day they met, but something had always blocked him from feeling anything further, anything _deeper,_ even if he caught flashes of its potential from time to time.

That something happened to be sitting right in front of him.

He steeled himself, looking Ugetsu directly in the eye. “I’ve found it hard to be genuinely interested in someone else, given whatever is still going on between the two of us.”

“I haven’t,” Ugetsu shrugged.

Ouch. That fucking stung.

He said it so matter-of-fact, without any malice, and somehow that hurt more.

“Okay,” Akihiko said, scooting forward to get off the bed. “I’m done talking to you.”

“Akih—”

“—save it, Ugetsu,” he said, setting his bowl onto the counter.

He knew he was reacting too harshly. Ugetsu was trying hard to talk civilly about a difficult topic — moving on — and doing a great job. It’s just that Akihiko had a talent for avoiding it. He’d been avoiding it for two years, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

He slid into his shoes and grabbed his jacket, checking the pockets to make sure he had a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Where are you going?”

Akihiko remained silent as he zipped up his coat.

“I have something else to tell you.”

Akihiko sighed heavily, turning towards him with his hands on his hips.

“Someone I met abroad is visiting Japan. I need you to be gone for the next three nights.”

Akihiko spun towards the stairs without a word and started to climb. He paused in his ascent, taking the unlit cigarette out from between his lips to speak.

“Ugetsu. You… you use condoms, right?”

Akihiko regularly got himself tested for _reasons,_ but he was fairly confident Ugetsu didn’t. The nights where they had sex with each other were rare and unpredictable, but it still happened.

Ugetsu took his sweet time lighting a cigarette before answering, and it set Akihiko’s teeth on edge. He let out his drag with a smile on his face.

“You’re the only one I let fuck me raw. Isn’t that romantic?”

Akihiko internally screamed — how was it possible to love and utterly _hate_ someone at the exact same time?

He ran up the rest of the steps, flinging open the door to burst forth into the cool night air. He took out his lighter and cupped his shaking hands around the cigarette, but a breeze came through and blew out the flame.

“Dammit!” he cursed, feeling the burn of oncoming tears.

He tried again, and this time it caught, the nicotine smoothing the tension from his body before it rushed to his head.

He started to walk with no destination in mind, needing to move.

Ugetsu was the most infuriating person he had ever met. What pissed Akihiko off the most, was how he said things so emotionless, so _coldly_ , when Akihiko knew Ugetsu felt things deeper than almost anyone.

The more he walked, the more he calmed down. A cat scurried past him, hopping up onto a garden wall, watching him go by with golden eyes, the streetlamp refracting off them eerily.

In his heart, he knew Ugetsu wasn’t entirely to blame. He had been the one to break up with Akihiko first after all, had tried asking him to leave more politely, but Akihiko… hadn’t gone anywhere. What Ugetsu did just now had the same goal — different tactic, but same goal, albeit one that hurt a lot more.

If anything, at least Ugetsu told him in advance now. One time Akihiko had come home to find Ugetsu in bed with another man. There had been no forewarning, no “don’t come home” text. No nothing. Ugetsu had rolled the dice on purpose, knowing there was a risk of getting caught.

They had fought heatedly in front of this random dude — Akihko fully clothed and Ugetso bare ass naked as they pushed at each other. It was ugly, but mostly words. Thankfully that fight hadn’t turned physical, because who knows what would have happened if someone else had witnessed it.

Akihiko pulled out his phone and sat on the curb, clicking on an app he kept hidden when not in use. He hadn’t had to resort to this for a while, but three nights? That was a long time to be away. He could probably pick up a nightshift at the 24-hour ramen bar he waited at, then sleep it off in class. He could also probably get away with spending a night at Haruki’s… but the third night?

His lip curled in distaste as he scrolled through his inbox, bypassing all the men. No fucking thanks. He’d had a _bad_ encounter once with an older man, and it spooked him. Akihiko didn’t like being put in situations where he felt like he wouldn’t be able to get out of it if he needed to.

He opened a message at random.

_30\. Housewife. Frequently left alone while husband travels—we have an agreement._

Akihiko scoffed. He never believed that. Even if it was true, it was better to be cautious.

 _Prove to me men can actually make a woman come because I’m not convinced it's possible._ Akihiko laughed despite the situation. _You’ll be rewarded handsomely. Dominant personality but make me bend._

She had attached several photos of herself. He required it for safety reasons, to make sure the person was real and not a creep. It was only fair, since he had to provide several of himself.

His thumbs moved against the keypad.

_Tomorrow night.  
Get ready to pay up._

* * *

Akihiko walked from the nearest bus stop. He never took his motorcycle to a job. It was better to leave as little trace as possible.

The closer he got, the more familiar this neighborhood felt, like he’d been here before but couldn’t fathom why. This division was _rich;_ he didn’t know anyone with this kind of money, except maybe Ugetsu’s parents.

He glanced down at the address on his phone — _306._ He was less than a block away.

Akihiko paused in front of the gated driveway, contemplating his next move. He knew why it felt so familiar now. This was the house with the fucking art museum; _the one he’d unpacked a month ago._ Was this a joke? How did she find him?

Akihiko racked his brain for the memory, but couldn’t picture seeing her clearly. He didn’t think he had even met the owners of the house that day. He only remembered interacting with the house’s _staff,_ because that’s how well off they were.

He weakly convinced himself it was coincidental, and mustered up the nerve to ring the bell. He could use the money, the place to sleep, and maybe he’d get a luxurious bath or something while he was at it.

He was buzzed in, his client’s silhouette backlit in the massive arched doorway.

“You’re as hot as I remembered, thank god.”

Sirens blared in Akihiko’s mind, but he continued on.

“How’d you find me?”

“Happy coincidence,” she shrugged. “I recognized you while browsing the site.”

She was wearing what looked like a silk kimono, but more modern, left open to frame the outfit beneath like a long cardigan.

“You didn’t need to dress up for me. It’s only going to come off,” he flirted.

“Who says it's for you?”

Akihiko pressed his lips together, taken aback.

She laughed, taking a sip from the wine glass in her hand.

“I’m not your usual clientele, am I?””

“Not exactly,” he answered truthfully.

When he had to resort to this, it was usually college girls, and sometimes he wasn’t even paid... it was enough to have a bed to sleep in.

“It's my first time using the app,” she admitted. “I was desperate.”

She stepped forward, curling a hand around his bicep and giving it a squeeze.

“I bet you could pin me against a wall and hold me up, no problem.”

“If that’s what you want. But you need to pay me first.”

 _“Later,”_ she emphasized, swirling the wine around in her glass, eyeing him predatorily. “When you satisfy me. And I’m positive you will.”

“No,” Akihiko said, shaking his head. “Money first. I was explicitly clear about how this works.”

“Sheesh.” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Are you always so uptight?” She spun around, her heels clicking on the floor as she crossed over to her purse on the counter. “You’re lucky you’re sexy, or I’d toss you out for being a brat.”

Akihiko didn’t offer a reply. When she came back, she stepped right up into his space.

“Stick out your tongue. I want to see it in person.”

Akihiko did as he was told, all while she slid the fat wad of bills into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Pretty,” she smiled, flicking at the silver ball with her acrylic nail. “Now eat me out with it.”

~

Akihiko slid out of the ridiculously soft sheets, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He spared a glance at the woman still passed out behind him — he had watched her pop some pills before falling asleep last night, telling him to see himself out in the morning.

He got up, picking his clothes and fanny pack up off the floor, and walked to the bathroom still naked.

It was _gigantic._ Almost the same size as the entire studio basement he lived in with Ugetsu.

He took a long shower, snatched several freshly baked, still warm pastries that had magically appeared on the kitchen counter, and headed out the front door.

Akihiko bit into his manju _(yuzu citrus filling, hell yeah!)_ while walking to the bus stop. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he remembered Haruki’s phone call from last night; the memory dropping into his gut like a lead weight.

He had been in the middle of texting him, letting him know he wouldn’t be able to make it to their hang out, even though he’d promised he’d go, when his phone rang. Without thinking, he’d answered it, and that fox of a woman had moaned loudly on purpose, annoyed at his inattention — she had already been working at his cock for a little too long, trying to get him hard so they could finish what he came here for.

Akihiko had hung up immediately, but he knew it wasn’t fast enough. He was positive Haruki had heard her, and now he was embarrassed to ask him if he could spend the night tonight, which had been his plan all along.

He looked down at his watch. He had to be at work soon. Maybe by the time his shift was over, he would have figured something else out.

His shift ended, and he hadn’t figured anything else out.

He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, shivering in his shirt. The temperature had dropped since this morning, and he didn’t have a jacket on him. It wasn’t needed yesterday. He cursed, wondering what to do about it. There was really only one conclusion.

He pulled out his phone and sent Ugetsu a text, saying he was popping by real quick to get his jacket. By the time he reached home, Ugetsu still hadn’t answered him, so he raised his fist and knocked on the door. Still nothing.

Akihiko sighed and went in, announcing himself as he did, but it wasn’t needed. The basement was empty, though rather messy, and the foreign clothes and personal items pinged his vision immediately.

He swallowed his distaste and walked towards the closet, fully intending to grab his jacket and leave, but then he saw the stranger’s bag on the bed, and was overcome with a stupid desire.

He unzipped the top and peered inside. It only took him two seconds to deduce the man was an American. _Tch._ He rifled around a bit more, and then the bathroom door opened and Ugetsu stepped out, speaking broken English, another man stepping out behind him, both of them in nothing but towels.

Ugetsu stilled, his eyes locked on Akihiko, before they darted between him and the bag.

“Outside. Now.” Ugetsu demanded, his voice full of fury.

Akihiko followed him up the stairs, avoiding the eyes of the stranger in _his house._

When they got outside, Ugetsu’s back was to him, still littered with water droplets from the shower. He spun around suddenly, his hand clutching at the towel wrapped around his waist.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed my jacket. I sent a text—”

“—Did you steal from him?”

 _“What?”_ Akihiko fumed.

“Don’t play dumb, Akihiko. It’s insulting. If you need money for a room tonight, I can give you— “

“—Jesus christ, Ugetsu! I didn’t steal from him.”

“Then what were you doing with his bag?”

“I.” Akihiko’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I was snooping, alright?!”

“I’m not yours anymore, Akihiko! This is unacceptable!”

Akihiko felt blinded by inexplicable rage. He _knew_ that. He fucking knew that, and yet...

“Oh, so you’re his now?! He’s probably just some white dude looking to satisfy an asian kink!”

Akihiko’s head snapped to the side from being slapped, his face _burning_ as something dripped down the length of it. He raised his fingers to touch it, and they came back wet and stained with blood. Ugetsu wore a thick silver ring around his middle finger, and the metal had cut into his cheekbone with the blow.

They stared at each other; both of them had tears in their eyes.

“I—” Akihiko’s throat rasped. “I deserved that.”

Ugetsu bit his lip and looked away.

“Get out, Akihiko,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Don’t come back unless you’re packing.”

Akihiko felt sick with regret. What he said was inappropriate and disrespectful and...

“I’m sorr—”

**“—No.”**

Ugetsu’s voice was stern and rock solid. He went back into the house, leaving Akihiko on the front steps alone. He heard the click of the lock, and that was what finally made him turn around and leave.

Akihiko wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand, cleaning it off on the black fabric of his jeans. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, his throat on _fire_ with the desire to cry. He fought it hard, his breath hitching and heaving as he swallowed it all down.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck._

He hopped onto the train, and before he knew it, he was at Haruki’s door.

He sat down on the staircase and pulled out his phone with shaky hands.

_“hey. are you awake?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... chapter counter went up lmao. I hit 10k on this chapter unexpectedly and still didn't get to everything I wanted. O.o -- whoops. Third chapter, it is.
> 
> If you picked up on it... I hc Ugetsu as having a mild eating disorder and borderline personality disorder. I'm not going to go too much into it, but it is in my mind when I write him, so I thought I'd share that. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading! <3


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